


Scars

by brimstonegold, Ithiel_Dragon



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dark, Angels, Angst, Blood and Gore, Demons, Drama, Evil Sam Winchester, Explicit Sexual Content, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by Roleplay/Roleplay Adaptation, M/M, Original Character(s), Rape/Non-con Elements, Sibling Incest, Suicide Attempt, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-09
Updated: 2012-10-07
Packaged: 2018-10-05 05:35:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 165,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10298759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brimstonegold/pseuds/brimstonegold, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ithiel_Dragon/pseuds/Ithiel_Dragon
Summary: In exchange for sparing Dean's life, Sam makes a deal with Azazel.  When the devil's gate opens, Sam leads the demon army that is released against humanity and Heaven.  Five years later, the world is controlled by demons, most of humanity enslaved, and the angels are on the verge of losing the war with Hell.  There are only small pockets of human rebels left.  Unfortunately Azazel only agreed to let Dean live, for the past five years Dean has been imprisoned, enslaved, and tortured.  He hasn't seen his brother in five years, until one night during a demon celebration, Sam chooses Dean as his new pet.This work is incomplete and abandoned, it will never be completed.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Story uploaded by Ithiel Dragon. This was a roleplay story I was involved in several years ago on a forum called Devil's Gate. Ithiel Dragon played Dean Winchester, and some other characters. Brimstone Gold played Sam Winchester, and some other characters. I am posting this story in its entirety and unedited. The page breaks are where the author changed. Maybe one day I will go back and edit it into a more proper story format, but don't hold your breath. I'm mostly posting this story here so I don't lose it. I still think its a pretty good read the way it is, but it is still obviously a roleplay. You've been warned.

  
_"Sam!"_

_Dean called his brother's name desperately as he and Bobby ran together through the darkness. Skeletal tree limbs ripped at his jacket like claws, roots and thick underbrush trying its best to trip him up, it was like fucking Mother Nature itself was trying to stop him. Or maybe this whole damned place was cursed. Finally the old abandoned ghost town of Cold Oak came into view after what felt like hours of running through the damn woods._

_"Sammy!"_

_What if his brother wasn't here? They'd pinned all their hopes of finding his brother on that fucking vision or whatever the hell it had been. What if they were wrong? Or what if they were too late?_

_He'd let Sam get taken, practically from under his nose. What if they didn't find Sam? Or what if they found him and he was already…dead… God, Dean couldn't even think of the possibility without his heart feeling like it was being ripped from his chest. He'd promised their father, he'd promised his **brother** , and he was going to save him._

_He had to… He fucking **had** to!_

_Then he heard it. His name. His brother's voice. Sam… thank god. When he finally saw the younger man in the darkness, stumbling towards him, he wanted to cry in relief. He might have if his blood hadn't frozen in his veins when he saw another shape in the darkness behind his brother. One Dean recognized all too well. A figure with glowing yellow eyes…_

_"Sammy! Look out!" He yelled as loud as he could, sure his brother hadn't seen the danger yet, trying to warn him. The second the words left his mouth however he saw Bobby fly to the side, struck by an invisible force that threw the older man like a rag doll. Dean had little chance to be worried about the older hunter, however, when the same force slammed into him with the force of a truck. Hitting him so hard it left him without any breath in his lungs._

_He struck a hard unforgiving surface, a wall of some kind, and it further dazed him, but somehow he managed to stay conscious. At least until he felt the barbed wire wrapping around his throat, arms, and legs. Stretching him practically spread eagle and cutting into his exposed flesh painfully. Pinning him helplessly._

_"Sam! Run!" Dean barely managed to choke out before the wire constricted around his throat, cutting off any more air to his body. The wire started digging deeply into his throat easily slicing through the fragile skin, he felt blood welling up, running down his neck, and if it continued to tighten it would likely decapitate him long before he suffocated._

_Dean saw more than heard his brother scream his name because he almost couldn't hear anything over the rapid thundering of his own heartbeat. His lungs seized in his chest as he struggled desperately to inhale even a single breath, but nothing could get past his constricting throat. Hot blood began to fill his throat and lungs as the wire bit deeper and deeper into his flesh, the pain more intense than he would have ever imagined. Only growing worse as darkness began to creep around the edges of his vision._

_He was terrified. But not because he knew any second he'd either suffocate or have his head cut off, and it seemed to be a race now between the two. But because he could see his brother, terrified, tears in his eyes, and the demon. They were talking, though he couldn't hear what either of them were saying the sight alone filled him with dread. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out Sam was begging the demon not to kill him._

_**No, Sam. Just run. Get the hell out of here!** He wanted to yell at the younger man, but that was impossible. He couldn't even fucking breathe, and now he couldn't even see. His eyes rolled back in his head as the pain and lack of oxygen began to overwhelm him. Maybe he would be lucky enough to pass out before the bastard demon decapitated him in front of his brother… He wouldn't have to see the look on Sam's face before he died… But then what would happen to his brother…?_

_**Sammy… no… he couldn't die… not like this… he had to save Sam!** How was he supposed to save his brother if he couldn't even save himself…_

_He was shocked back into consciousness when he hit the ground hard. Suddenly, and without explanation released from his bonds. He wasn't even sure he wanted to know the reason why, but he needed to. Even though each wheezing breath he took through his abused throat was agony. Even though he tasted blood with every weak exhale, blood pouring through his fingers as he pressed them to the wound at his neck. He raised his head slowly, forcing himself to focus._

_Sam…_

_He saw the demon touch his brother's forehead. Heard his brother scream, and he tried to scream the younger man's name but only blood welled up in his mouth rather than sound and he choked. As Sam fell to the ground, Dean tried to rise but he barely made it to his knees before collapsing again weakly._

_**Sam!** _

_Dean tried to reach out for his brother, but he couldn't move. His eyes turned to the demon then, golden yellow eyes glittering with amusement and triumph before the darkness swallowed Dean up.  
_  
***

Dean woke from the dream with a start. His heart beat a thundering rhythm against his ribcage where he lay alone in the darkness. Cold. Black. Evil. Suffocating. It was always around him. He felt it. So thick he could taste it. Like death. Cold tears were drying on his dirty face, and he wiped them away angrily before curling around himself as much as he could for warmth, even though there wasn't any.

He didn't know how long he'd been here. In this cell. In the dark. Days. Maybe a week. This time…

He didn't really care. No one came. He was alone, and he was glad for that. No one had brought him food or water for a long time, but he didn't care about that either… He never really felt hungry or thirsty anymore. When they did feed him, he had to force himself to eat and drink and not simply vomit it back up. Once he had refused to eat what they'd brought him and they'd literally shoved it down his throat, nearly choking him in the process. He didn't refuse again.

It was amazing how easily someone could get used to almost anything. Hunger. Thirst. Even pain. He was used to the pain by now. He didn't care how every breath he took hurt because of the burns across his chest. He didn't care how the torn flesh of his back scraped against the rough stone behind him when he shifted. Bruises, cuts, even broken bones were almost trivial. After five years of torture at the hands of a sadistic demon he had become vary aquainted with pain. Often it was the only thing that reminded him he was still alive.

He'd even grown used to the screams. There was always someone screaming in the darkness. Prisoners like him. Screaming in agony as the demons had their fun. He could always tell the new ones from the old ones. The 'virgins'. The first time they felt the whip, or the brand, or the first time they were raped. The demons liked the 'fresh meat' best but they always came back to him in the end. Sometimes he envied them. The other prisoners. They never lasted very long. A few months, maybe a year, and that was it. But he was denied that release. Azazel had made it clear the other demons could do anything they wanted to him short of killing him. The ultimate punishment.

His fingers involuntarily went to his neck. Feeling the thick scar jagged scar that ran around his throat like a grotesque necklace… or collar. There were matching rings of scars around his wrists. Almost worse than the real shackles he wore. The reminders of how he'd gotten them. What he'd lost, more than his freedom… Freedom… he could barely remember what that word meant. Barely remember the life he'd once had. All he knew was he didn't consider this 'life' anymore. He might have been alive physically, but he felt dead. He had been dead ever since that night…

God it seemed so long ago now. It felt like a lifetime…

He'd died every night since. He wasn't anything now but an amusing 'pet'. He was only alive because _he_ kept him alive. That yellow eyed bastard, for his own sick amusement. Azazel had tortured him in ways that would have given him nightmares in his former 'life' merely thinking about. He didn't want to think about before. He didn't want to remember how he had failed. His one job. His one purpose. And he had failed. But even if he forced his waking mind to forget he still relived that night over and over in his dreams. He still saw the consequences of his failure every day, every hour, every breath he took.

Even if he could make himself forget Azazel loved reminding him of his failure. He tried not to believe it at first, of course. In the beginning it had been the one thing that kept him sane. The one hope that had made him want to live in spite of all the pain… but hope was nothing but its own torture now and if he thought about it… him… he _would_ go insane. He hated hope. Hope was for living things. The man who had been Dean Winchester was dead. He had died a long time ago. He didn't know what he was now…

The screaming had stopped. He heard footsteps coming down the corridor, drawing closer. They were coming for him. He knew it even before he heard the key in the lock. It was resignation more than fear he felt. His respite was over. He didn't even try to fight as they dragged him up off the floor and out the door. What was the point of fighting? There was nothing left to fight for.

* * *

It was a night of celebration. Five years and fifty-five days ago, the Devil's Gate had been opened and his army had poured out and been set free. Some had been reluctant to follow him, a human, but his father had put an end to any rebellion among the more powerful. With Lilith, his mother, and Azazel, his father, at his right and left hand, and Lilith's chosen, Ruby, as his first lieutenant, there was no stopping him. The demons had swarmed over the world before the angels had barely a chance to react.

Some demons had tried to carve out little corners of their own in the world, and Sam dealt with them as he reached them. Sometimes there was talk of releasing Lucifer, but Sam squelched that idea any time anyone spoke of it. Few human hosts would be able to hold a being of that power, and Sam wasn't about to become a meat suit for the devil. He was the Boy King, he ruled with a fist of blood and steel, and any demon who thought they could beat him quickly learned otherwise.

In the beginning he had needed Azazel and Lilith to keep some of the demons in line. He had been weak and a bit pathetic when he looked back on those early days, but once he started drinking demon blood fresh from any source he chose, he had changed. Now, not even his father or mother could match his power. Still, many of his army supported him because of Azazel and Lilith. Without them, he would not be King and the world would not be his.

There were still plenty of unpossessed humans in the world, and that's the way he liked it. Something to entertain the troops. There were also those in 'God's Army,' or 'The Resistance'. They were more challenging. They knew the ways to protect themselves from the demons, but they couldn't protect themselves from Sam. He was an unholy force that could go toe to toe with archangels at this point. As he had proven tonight when Raphael had fallen at his hand. With one of the strongest arch-angels taken down, and on the holy night of Christmas Eve, the celebration was loud and riotous, as it should be. Certainly it was probably somber and dark in the halls of the holy this night and that pleased him. Pleased him greatly. Non-humans, non-demons, had begun to join his ranks a few years back, though mindless monsters he had little use for other than as entertainment. Tossing a couple rawheads or werewolves or wendigos into a pocket of human resistance was always great fun to watch.

The human fighters were getting scrappier and most had a few angels among them now. Other humans, those just trying to survive, went to whose ever side was around. Many humans bartered information to the demons for a chance to remain untouched, and Sam had even granted a few permanent immunity while they lived at least, because their information had been so useful. Most deals struck only bought the humans a few years and he was always amused when they tried to run. Sometimes he let the hellhounds rip them to shreds. Sometimes he merely had them dragged back and tortured, keeping them alive until they weren't good for much. At that point, he'd let the torturers kill them, take their souls, and teach them what real torture was.

Reaching for his goblet of fresh demon blood given up freely by his followers, he drank deeply, then turned to his plate filled with only the finest of foods taken from the world over. His parents were proud of him, of his accomplishments this day, and any doubters still in his army could doubt no more. There were a few more arch angels that needed to be killed, and he would, when the time was right, and several regular angels that were great fun to play with. The only concerns he truly had were Lucifer and God. God had made no effort to step in and stop him as far as he could tell. The angels seemed to be acting on their own. Lucifer was locked tightly in his cage and there were several rituals that would need to be performed for him to get out. The Horsemen had not made an appearance, at least not yet, and he hoped they stayed out of it as well. He suspected so long as Lucifer was locked up, they would. All in all, it appeared his reign would continue.

He watched as the human slaves were brought in, watched as they cowered, or whimpered or screamed. He gave a nod to Alistair. After killing an arch-angel, he was hungry. He wanted to sate himself with some slave's body. Alistair waved back the demons that had moved to grab slaves from the line and start fucking them then and there. Sam would get first choice, then the others were up for grabs. From where he sat, he looked over the slaves. A few looked fresh. Hair was grabbed and heads pulled back so he could see there faces. He could mend any of them, turn them into perfection, but he needed a good canvas to start from.

He sat up a little straighter when he recognized one of the slaves. That one was his father's pet. Sam had never been allowed to get near him. Tonight, perhaps as a reward, his father was offering his pet up for Sam? His father had kept the human alive for five years. Tortured him on a regular basis. Fucked him just as often. He must be one helluva fuck for his father to keep the man as he had. He really didn't look like much, scarred, thin, beaten. Sam sipped from his goblet and debated. If the pet was being offered, he would be foolish to turn the offer down. He'd long been curious about the human. He indicated the one he was interested in.

"Clean him up, feed him, take him to my room." Alistair gave a slight bow and indicated Sam's chosen.

"And her," he said, pointing to a raven haired beauty who looked fresh and smelled of fear. "I'll take her now." He stood up and began loosening his pants, his cock already growing hard as the young woman was brought up. With his selections made, the other demons in the room began pawing at the other slaves and soon were fucking every orifice available.

Sam ran his hand over the woman's neck, down her breast, and squeezed her breast painfully hard. "Stop your crying," he snapped and turned her to look out over the rest of the room where the others were being taken. "You could be out there. You make it good, you give me your all, and I'll send you back to your cell. You don't, then when I'm done fucking your brains out, I'll toss back out there for my soldiers to fuck you so hard and so long, you'll be lucky to survive it. If you don't survive, you'll go right to the rack and I'll have Alistair give you special attention for the next few hundred years." He grabbed her hair and pulled her head back. "So you better be a damned good fuck, bitch."

He bent her over the table, shoved his cock up her ass and began fucking her. He smiled at her whimpers and thought ahead to having his father's pet sucking him off, and then to fucking him. It was going to be a very good night indeed. 

* * *

It became obvious pretty damned quick that something was different. Wrong. They weren’t taking him to the torture chamber. Not that Dean was anxious to visit the rack again but at least that was _normal_. He knew what to expect from his little sessions with Alistair. But this… this was new. Anything new was bad. Especially where demons were concerned.

Maybe they were finally going to kill him? That was probably too much to hope for. Besides, if Azazel wanted him dead they could have easily done it in the dungeons. They were dragging him out of the dungeon now, along with several other slaves.

He hadn’t been outside of the dungeon in five years. The sudden bright lights after spending five years in near total darkness almost blinded him. Too bad he could still hear.

They were dragged into a room. A big one by the sound of it and it was full of demons. Celebrating. That couldn’t be good. Was there going to be a public execution? No, they weren’t important enough for that. Hearing the nearest demons shouting, describing in graphic detail what they were going to do to him and the other slaves made their purpose here quickly apparent. They were meant to be the entertainment.

The demons dropped him to the floor and even though his stomach clenched in fear he didn’t move. When his head was suddenly yanked back, Dean blinked rapidly. Trying to force his unpracticed eyes to focus even though he wasn’t really sure he wanted to see what was about to happen.

He saw Azazel. And Lilith… the bitch. Alistair, they had become very well acquainted over the last five years. But it wasn’t the demons that made Dean’s breath catch like broken glass in his throat.

Sam…

It was the first time he had actually seen his brother in five years and he barely recognized the younger man. Not that Azazel hadn’t taken much pleasure in describing to him in graphic detail everything Sam had done, what his brother had become. But knowing it and seeing first hand were two completely different things. If Azazel wanted to kill him why couldn’t he have just ripped his heart out?

All too soon he was being roughly picked up and dragged back out of the room, though not before he saw the demons descending on the remaining slaves. Dean had a feeling they were going to have the more merciful fate. He’d expected, hoped even, to be taken back to his cell, or even the torture chamber, but he wasn’t. Though the ‘shower’ he was given was pretty close to torture. Ice cold water shot at him from what must have been a fire hose. Harsh brushes washing years worth of grime and blood off of him, and probably taking several layers of skin with it.

Finally when the demons deemed him clean enough he was dumped on the floor once more and a bowl dropped in front of him which probably contained more maggots in it than actual food. For the first time in a long time Dean refused to eat and the demons took great pleasure kicking and hitting him while they shoved his face into the bowl, laughing when he vomited. Scalding hot water came next, rinsing him off after his ‘meal’, and the demons were dragging him along again.

His chest hurt with every breath he took and he wouldn’t be surprised if the demons had cracked a few of his ribs again. Dean grunted in pain when he was unceremoniously dropped once again even though his landing was quite a bit softer than he was used to. He forced his eyes open to stare at the plush carpet like he’d never seen anything like it before. Slowly lifting his head when he heard the doors behind him close and lock to stare in wonder at the luxurious room. Far different from his dungeon cell, or hell, even the rat infested motels he’d stayed in most of his life.

Dean never thought he’d miss his dungeon cell but right now he wished more than ever to be back there. 

* * *

The woman hadn't been that good of a fuck so, as promised, he tossed her back out for the other demons to have their turn, but she had been good enough that he told them not to kill her. He might give her a couple more tries. He did miss the early days when the humans were prettier to look at, when some of them had more fight or enough brains to give him what he wanted. When ever they brought in any from The Resistance, they were usually good, put up a good fight for awhile, but many times Azazel had them taken straight to the rack, which really sort of pissed Sam off. He wanted some that were untouched, that were unafraid of him, that talked of the ruin he'd brought to the world. Those days were over though.

Sam was of the opinion they should leave the humans alone for awhile, let them rebuild a little, let them regain some hope, and then go in and rip it all apart again. He might be the Boy-King, but his Father and mother still had ultimate say, so he was more the Prince than the King. It was true that they probably shouldn't leave the humans be until the arch-angels were all dead, but really, the arch-angels hadn't been much of a force helping out the humans until a few years ago. 'Hunters' had been the bigger concern until the angels finally started coming along. They knew the ways of exorcising demons, but really, all that did was send the demons back to hell, and with the gate now under the control of Sam and his army, at most it could be an inconvenience.

The feast was still going strong but Sam had eaten his fill, and he was ready to retire for the evening. The one drawback to being human was that he did need to sleep. He was looking forward to the rest of the evening, of getting to play with his father's pet and having someone in his bed for the night.

He nodded to the guards who stood outside his quarters, guards handpicked by his father to protect him. Not that he particularly needed protection now. He had plenty of loyal followers. Demons could be unpredictable though, and the thirst for power was always there.

Entering his quarters, he saw his father's pet curled up on the floor like a good dog. He smiled and stripped off his shirt. The human had been washed, brutally it looked like. He shouldn't be surprised. He wanted the pet to be clean and handsome though and feel good enough to give him a good evening of fucking.

"On your feet," Sam snapped at the human. 

* * *

Dean wasn’t sure how long he laid on the floor, not moving from the spot where he’d been thrown. A few years ago he might have explored his surroundings. Tried to find a way out. A way to escape. But those days were long gone. There was no escape.

He lifted his head when he heard the door open again. Trying to brace himself for whatever sick game Azazel was playing with him this time. He thought he was ready for anything, the demon hadn’t gotten truly inventive with him in a long time. Well, he was wrong, yet again.

Sam was the last person he’d expected to see walk through that door. When his brother immediately started to strip off his shirt Dean’s eyes grew almost comically wide.

He was no stranger to rape. It happened to him on a regular basis. But he never imagined that Azazel would be this twisted. Ok, maybe he could imagine it, but the demon had never done this before. Why now? Dean hadn’t even seen his brother in five years. Why all of a sudden…

Sam’s order made him pale and he was suddenly keenly aware of his nudity in a way he hadn’t been in a long time. No. Not this. Anything but this. Dean shook his head as he started crawling back away from his brother even though there was nowhere to go.

* * *

Sam chuckled when he saw the man backing away from him. "Where are you going to go, pet? My father put you in the line up tonight, obviously offering you to me. You don't have to fear his wrath. He's kept you alive this long, you must be something special, and tonight, I intend to find out just how special." His eyes roved over the man's body. Once he fixed him, he would indeed be a pleasure to look at, he was certain.

Seeing the man was still trying to back away, he gave a small sigh. This was his father's pet, he didn't dare injure the man, at least not irrepairably. He had been offered up for sex, not torture, but Sam wouldn't tolerate disobedience either. He was more than a bit surprised the man wasn't so well trained that he didn't do as ordered without a second thought. Maybe that's why his father kept him. Maybe he had a spirit that wouldn't be broken, but the man certainly seemed broken.

Sam strode forward and pulled the man to his feet, gripping his biceps firmly. "I told them to clean you up and feed you." He looked at the bruises and raw skin on the man and shook his head. "No, this won't do, I want you at your best."

He captured the man's mouth and thrust his tongue inside, then nearly gagged. "Fucking hell, what did they feed you?"

He practically threw the slave onto his bed and shouted, "Kaylin!"

One of the guards quickly stepped into the room and saluted.

"I told them I wanted him cleaned and fed. He was to be made ready for _me._ Look at him. They scoured his skin raw and his mouth tastes of vomit and garbage. The ones who did this, I want them on the rack until I say otherwise. And I want some real food for this slave, some sweet nectar for him to drink as well."

"Yes, sir," the demon said and saluted, hurrying back out of the room.

Sam turned back to the slave. "I want you fit for fucking all night long. This," he waved at Dean, "isn't good enough." Stepping forward, he placed his hand in the center of the slave's chest and concentrated. He could heal recent injuries easily enough without any strain. He healed the man's skin of its scrapes and bruises and mended the man's cracked ribs. With a little more effort, he added muscle to the man's body, giving him back some strength. Opening his eyes, he looked at his handiwork. Yes, much improved.

"Since I'm sure they didn't bother to clean you properly, and I'm not going to wait only to find it inadequate again, I'll tend to you myself. Into the shower. Now." He waved toward a door.

* * *

Dean couldn't help but blink a little in surprise at Sam's words. Azazel? Sam thought he was afraid of _Azazel_? Had his brother gone so far off the reservation that he didn't even realize how fucking twisted this was?

Alright, maybe that was a dumb question. If even a fraction of the shit that demon bastard had told him about Sam, what his brother had done, were true... Whatever Azazel had done to his brother that night, to say it had fucked the younger man up completely was beyond an understatement. Dean wasn't even sure his brother was human anymore. But this…

Then Sam was moving towards him, yanking him up off the floor, and Dean's cry of pain at the sudden movement was swallowed by his brother's lips. Before his brain could truly catch up to what was happening the younger man was pushing him away in disgust, and really shouldn't Dean be the one gagging? After all his brother had just fucking _kissed_ him.

The younger man tossed him away like he weighed nothing, and Dean felt like a rag doll. Or a child. Was he really that weak? Or was Sam really that strong? He should probably be thankful that the younger man had chosen to throw him onto the mattress instead of the hard floor, but really, this was the last place Dean wanted to be.

But where was he going to go? What could he possibly do? Dean felt a chill crawl up his spine when Sam's attention turned back to him. All the blood draining from his face hearing his brother confirm his worst fears.

_For gods sake, Sam, please. Don't do this._ He couldn't even beg. Azazel had stolen that away from him too along with everything else. The barbed wire that had torn open his throat all those years ago, Azazel had healed the savage wound only enough to keep him from bleeding to death. But it had left him mute ever since.

Dean closed his eyes shut tightly when Sam touched him. Praying it would at least be over quick even though the younger man had already taken away that hope. He didn't expect the sudden rush of warmth that suddenly flooded through his body from the touch. He didn't expect the sudden absence of pain when he breathed or the bruises fading from his skin right before his eyes when he dared to open them. He even felt… stronger. It had been so long since he'd been without pain… he almost didn't remember what it felt like.

He looked up at Sam, the stranger standing in front of him wearing his brother's face, and didn't know what to think. Sam didn't give him any time to either. Ordering him to the shower that was apparently through the door the younger man indicated. Dean certainly didn't want to help Sam 'get him ready' but he didn't want to piss the other man off either. He was not looking forward to more pain so soon after just having it disappear. And, really, anything to delay what was about to happen wasn't such a bad idea.

So he slowly pushed himself up from the bed and stood, his muscles stiff but it was the easiest he'd been able to move in… years. He started for the bathroom, all too aware of Sam's eyes on him watching every move he made.

* * *

Sam watched the slave slowly move toward the bathroom. The slave's eyes had been filled with many emotions. Surprise, fear, resignment, relief. He looked at the small blood splotches on the bedspread and on his carpet. Those idiots who had cleaned up the slave. His father may like blood splattered about his own quarters, but Sam did not. Not unless he had caused it at any rate. His throne room was an entirely different matter, but not his bedchambers unless he was engaged in bloodplay.

Sam stripped off the rest of his clothes and followed the slave into the bathroom. He felt the slave stiffen under his touch as he caressed his muscular scarred back. Lightly he kissed the nape of the man's neck.

"You needn't fear me," he crooned. "You make it enjoyable for me, really enjoyable, and you'll get the same. You have any fight left in you, if you like it rough," Sam slid an arm around the man's waist and pulled him up against his body, "I can do that too."

He moved the slave off to the side and reached into the large shower, turning it on. "I don't know what you're used to. I've seen you on the rack, I've seen my father visit you in the dungeon, but tonight you'll get a soft bed. I know Father likes to sleep in the dungeon, to listen to the screams," he adjusted the water until it was pleasantly warm, "to smell the blood, to fuck his favorites in the bedchamber he has there. Mother too. I prefer to sleep in comfort, free of filth and blood. Not at first of course. For a long time they had me sleep in the dungeons. Sometimes I still do, especially before a major raid. But after this last battle and the grand success that will be remembered for years, even millennium, tonight is a night of comfort and celebration. I'll make it a memorable night for you, the first night the Boy-King took you to his bed. Of course if you resist me, I'll make this a night you won't ever forget." His voice held an unmistakable threat at the end.

Sam stepped under the water and sighed as it flowed over him, washing any of the sweat and remnants of blood that might still be on him from the battle. He gripped the man's wrist and guided him into the shower. "You are a handsome one. I don't know Father's fascination with you, though I've always been curious."

Turning he placed Dean under the warm water. He lathered a silken cloth and began to gently wash the man's chest, his free hand following after the soapy cloth, caressing the muscles. He healed a bit more as he went, some of the scars fading, adding more muscles, softening the skin so it was pleasant to the touch. He wanted the man to be more than just handsome. He wanted him beautiful.

* * *

The bathroom was just as luxurious as the main room. Hell, it might have even been as big as the main room. The floors and counters were all made of some kind of expensive looking dark marble. There was a bathtub that looked half the size of a friggen pool and a shower with so many knobs and shower heads he would probably need a manual just to figure out how to turn it on. Everything gleamed like polished silver. Hell, maybe it even _was_ silver, or white gold. Guess being an evil son of a bitch taking over the world paid well.

Dean caught sight of himself in one of the flawless mirrors and froze. It was the first time he'd seen himself in five years and as much as he barely recognized Sam he recognized himself even less. His hair was longer than it had ever been, even though it had been sheered off several times over the years. The stringy unwashed strands fell into his eyes, eyes that were so hollow with dark circles they looked like they belonged on a corpse more than anything living.

When he’d been a hunter he’d gotten his share of scars on the job. But he could barely see them anymore. All of his old scars were now buried under the marks he’d received during his last five years of captivity. Crisscrossing marks made by whips, chains, hooks, blades, brands, barely an inch of his skin left untouched, and that was just his front. He knew his back was even worse. Even that part of his old life erased.

Even though Sam had somehow given him some of his muscle mass back he still looked severely malnourished. His ribs showing in start relief and his stomach sunken in. Kind of like those pictures in school they showed you taken during World War II of the concentration camps.

He’d been so focused on staring at the… thing… that couldn’t possibly be him, could it? That he didn’t even notice when Sam came up behind him. The light touch to his back making him flinch in spite of the unexpected gentleness of the touch. The light kiss to his neck even more shocking and he finally wrenched his eyes away from the mirror. Not wanting to watch his brother touching him that way.

Dean squeezed his eyes tightly shut, his skin feeling like there were ants crawling beneath his flesh as Sam whispered into his ear his ‘choices’. Either do what Sam wanted and it would be ‘good’ or resist and… Dean honestly wasn’t sure which would be better. If he resisted, if Sam… hurt… him then Dean could just close his eyes and pretend it was just any other demon raping him and not his own brother… He felt like he was going to be sick.

He was glad when Sam let him go, giving him room to breathe, if only for a moment. Though Dean didn’t open his eyes. The less he looked at Sam the better it seemed. Though he couldn’t block out his brother’s voice. Hearing his brother call that demon bastard ‘father’ caused bile to rise in his throat. The younger man talking about how… he’d seen him… on the rack… in Azazel’s rooms… The hot white knife of pain in his stomach twisted a bit more.

All this time? Sam had known what was happening to him all this time and he’d never tried to… stop it? Of course it was foolish to hope that Sam had been ignorant of what had become of him all these years. It was easier to believe his brother thought him dead than the younger man knowing. But Sam certainly hadn’t seemed all that surprised seeing him tonight. Nor did the younger man seem to have any reservations about raping him now. His own brother.

Dean choked back a sob when Sam pulled him under the water, feeling too numb to resist. Truly this was the worst kind of torture Azazel had come up with yet. He never wished he had died that night more than now. If he could have he’d be begging Sam to kill him now, send him to hell on the rack for a hundred years, anything but this.

He had promised his father he would protect his brother. His father’s voice whispered into his ears now, clear as the day John Winchester had told him he had to either save his brother or kill him. He remembered his promise to his brother, not to let the younger man turn into… this. Not to let him go darkside. The way Sam was talking it was like his brother didn’t even know him…

_Don’t let him hurt you Dean, please._

Dean’s eyes flew open in surprise, staring at the younger man in front of him in shock. He’d heard Sam’s voice as clearly as though his brother had spoken… but he hadn’t. Fuck… he was losing his fucking mind… who the hell could blame him? But one question kept repeating over and over in his head. Did… Sam not know him?

He’d dreamt of that night over and over for the last five years. Every detail was permanently etched into his mind. He couldn’t forget it even if he wanted to. The terrified look in his brother’s eyes as he watched Dean struggle to breath in the demon’s hold. The barbed wire slowly digging deeper and deeper into his throat and Sam desperately pleading with the yellow eyed bastard. The demon touching his brother’s forehead, Sam screaming…

What the hell had Azazel done to Sam?

* * *

Sam worked on the slave as he carefully washed every inch of his chest and stomach. He then worked on Dean's arms. "Mmm, a week with you in my care and I'd have you looking like an Adonis," Sam said. He scrubbed Dean's hands and worked to get out the blood and nastiness underneath Dean's ragged fingernails. He set the rag aside then and filled his hand with shampoo.

"I wouldn't typically wash a slave, but since you're father's pet and since you have the potential to be so beautiful, I'll make the exception. I don't know how long I'm going to get to keep you. I don't know how long I'm going to want to keep you." He began washing Dean's hair, pulling out the occasional dead bug from their strands. Sam growled softly. "I cannot believe they brought you to me in this condition. I've never had them prepare someone for my bedchambers the way they prepared you. Or rather failed to prepare you. If you were some quick random fuck it wouldn't matter, but," he shook his head, "they should know better. I'm their god-damned king."

Sam ran his hands over Dean's face taking away the dark circles and some of the more prominent scars and straightening his broken nose as he washed him. He reached the thick scar around Dean's neck. When he started to heal it, he jerked back. "Sonofabitch," he cursed, shaking his hands that were still stinging. "Apparently Father doesn't want that one removed or healed."

He pushed Dean under the water and rinsed his hair and face. "Much better." He ran a finger over the scar on Dean's neck. "You must have not known when to shut up for him to do this to you. He loves to hear screams so you must have really pissed him off. At least, since you haven't said anything, or made any sound, I'm assuming you can't talk. I don't ever recall hearing your screams on the rack either. Not that he would let me get close to you."

He stepped out of the shower and brought back a toothbrush and toothpaste. "You, brush, while I finish washing you. Do a good job because you won't like it if I have to brush your teeth. Take them," he snapped when the slave didn't move to accept them.

* * *

Dean’s mind struggled to put together the pieces of what was happening, what he was seeing, trying to understand. It was… difficult… to say the least. For so long the only things he’d known were pain, misery, and utter hopelessness. He might not be completely mad, but he wasn’t entirely sane anymore either. The only way he’d managed to hold onto even a shred of his sanity was by going numb. Numb in body. Numb in mind. Sometimes weeks would pass by and he couldn’t recall any of it except in snatches of nightmares.

He felt his mind trying to slip into that place now, wanting desperately to escape from what was happening, but for the first time in a long time he resisted it. He wasn’t sure why he resisted it. He didn’t want to feel Sam’s hands on him. Even though the younger man had been practically clinical while washing him, Dean knew that was going to change soon enough. He didn’t want to hear Sam calling that demon bastard Azazel ‘father’ calling _himself_ a king of _demons_ for fucks sake. Confirming everything Azazel had ever told him about Sam. He didn’t even want Sam healing him, taking away the pain, because it just reinforced how inhuman his brother was now that he could heal him like this. Taking away bruises, cuts, even old scars…

When Sam touched his neck, the ugly scar that ringed his throat like a grotesque collar, the younger man’s reaction made him flinch. Expecting Sam to hit him even though whatever had happened had not been Dean’s doing. When the hell had that ever mattered? But Sam didn’t. He simply mused how Azazel must not want that particular wound to heal.

Of course Dean had thought about it before, why he couldn’t even scream. Even if he couldn’t talk he should have been able to scream. Why was Azazel so concerned that he remain mute? The demon had kept Sam away from him before? Then why give him to Sam now? Dean shook his head, his spiraling thoughts were producing a migraine like headache in his skull. He couldn’t think… he didn’t want to think… he didn’t want to feel…

Sam’s snapped order brought him out of the daze he’d almost fallen into and slowly reached out to take the toothbrush and toothpaste. The objects so… ordinary… it made him want to laugh. Laugh and not stop…

_Don’t let him hurt you…_

The voice had to have been a product of his mind finally falling to pieces after all this time, but for some reason Dean couldn’t ignore their plea. So he started fumbling with the toothpaste and brush. Part of him almost not remembering how to use them, and the fact that his fingers had been broken so many times making the task more difficult than it should be. 

* * *

The slave finally took the toothpaste and toothbrush so Sam picked back up the cloth and re-soaped it until he got a rich lather. Kneeling down he began washing the slave's calves. The man's feet were as nasty as his hands had been and Sam sighed in minor annoyance. He apparently needed to choose someone to clean up a slave properly. Most he brought to his bed-chamber though were not in the sort of bad shape this man had been in. Slaves didn't usually last more than a year or if they did, they were in no condition to be fucked. Not that this man had been in shape for it. He wouldn't have even considered it were he not his father's precious pet. With hardly a thought, and no warning to the slave, he lifted the man into the air so he could wash the filth from the man's feet. A king, tending to a slave like this. It was so beneath him, but he wanted this man and wasn't willing to wait for some other idiots to tend him and Sam still not be happy with the man's condition. So he grit his teeth and did the job, healing and buffing the man as he went.

When he set the man back on his feet, he made sure he didn't fall, then began working his way up the man's thighs. He looked at the man's cock which looked about as tortured as the rest of him. Not a surprise he mused.

"Now here will be a true gift to you, pet." He took hold of the man's cock and stroked it with the wash cloth, healing damage done to it in the past, then lifting it up and fingering the man's balls as he washed them. "Do you like that, pet? Remember, you'll get pleasure, I'll make you scream with it, if you could," he smirked, "if you're good."

* * *

Dean was certain he didn’t have this much difficulty doing something as simple and basic as brushing his teeth since he was three years old. But considering he could no longer bend any of his fingers completely anymore he did as best as he could. As he scrubbed hard at his teeth, gums, and tongue with the brush he couldn’t help but muse how foreign the feeling was. Not to mention his surprise he still had so many of his teeth left. Between the beatings to his face, jaw broken multiple times, and threats to pull them out so he could suck cock better…

When it came time to get rid of the foam in his mouth he wasn’t sure what to do, but finally decided on swallowing it rather than spitting it out. He’d swallowed far worse and didn’t want to risk angering Sam by accidentally spitting on him or something.

Even once he was sure his teeth were clean he kept brushing anyway. Since Sam hadn’t told him to stop and since it distracted him somewhat from what the other man was doing to him. Though Dean almost choked on the brush when his brother suddenly lifted him off his feet with the power of his mind. Add it to the list of inhuman things his brother was capable of now. Dean didn’t relax even once Sam had set him back down surprisingly gently instead of merely dropping him.

He tried to ignore the feeling of Sam’s hands on his legs, moving up his thighs. He tried to ignore how close they were to his groin. He couldn’t ignore however when Sam suddenly grabbed his cock.

Dean dropped the toothbrush. His eyes wide as saucers and full of panic, and his breathing coming so fast he was practically hyperventilating. His hands slammed back against the wall behind him. His fingers curling into the tile and grout like claws, digging so hard he felt more than one of his fingernails tearing from the strain. But it was the only way he could stop his fight his first gut instinct to shove Sam away from him. 

* * *

Sam cocked an eyebrow in surprise at the slave's reaction. "You needn't fear, slave. I have no intentions of damaging you tonight, unless you give me no choice." Releasing Dean's cock, he grabbed Dean by the shoulders and turned him away from him, turning him so he was against the shower wall. He washed the back of Dean's thighs and then spread his cheeks, running the soapy cloth down Dean's crack. He lingered over Dean's hole.

"You've been well used, I see," he said, seeing the scar tissue. "Pity." As with the other scars, he healed Dean. "Now you are clean. Now you are acceptable, perhaps even almost worthy of my attention." He pressed up against Dean rubbing his flaccid cock along Dean's crack. "Let's see how clean your mouth is."

Gripping Dean's chin, he forced him to turn and pressed his lips against his. He slipped his tongue inside then pulled it out. "Better, but rinse," he ordered, pulled Dean away from the wall and putting him under the main showerhead. He forced Dean's head back. "Open your mouth. Rinse it out," he ordered.

When Dean did as he ordered, he shut off the water and stepped out of the shower. He handed Dean a towel. "Dry me off," he said.

* * *

Sam’s promises not to hurt him as long as he obeyed certainly didn’t calm Dean in the least. Just as the warm healing touches gave him no comfort and his brother’s offers of pleasure only sickened him.

He did not want to be healed. He did not want the scars removed. Why bother? So the demons could have their fun tearing his body apart again once he was returned to the dungeons? He did not want gentleness or comfort. He barely remembered what either was and he wanted to keep it that way. If all he knew was pain then there was nothing to compare it to. Nothing to wish or long for. He did not want to feel pleasure… certainly not at his _brother’s_ hands… hell, he wasn’t even sure if he could anymore.

Dean closed his eyes once more when Sam forced him around to face the wall. His palms rested flat on the wall, his muscles trembling from the strain it took just to remain still while his brother touched his ass. It was amazing really just how much effort doing nothing could be. His mind screaming protests that his mouth could not.

Why didn’t he resist? Because Azazel had trained him too well? Maybe. It was easier to think that than ‘a voice in his head told him not to’. Did he really believe that voice had been Sam? Of course not. His brother didn’t care if he was hurt or not. Sam was the one _doing_ this to him for fucks sake.

Again is mind flashed to the memory of that night. Sam was so afraid. Begging for his life… Why would Sam beg the demon not to kill him just to let him be tortured for the rest of his life?

Why was he doing this to himself? What the fuck did it matter? Dean couldn’t stop the shudder of disgust that went through him when he felt Sam’s cock rub against his ass if his life depended on it. He could barely let Sam maneuver him around again to face him.

Dean kept his eyes closed. His mouth remained relaxed when his brother kissed him again, invading his mouth, but he didn’t participate. Rinse. Spit. That part was easy. Anything to get Sam’s taste out of his mouth. When Sam shut off the water Dean felt his body chill to the bone realizing what was probably going to come next. Now that he was… ready…

Sam’s order to dry him off didn’t come as much of a surprise and like a good ‘pet’ he obeyed. Taking the towel from Sam and starting with his back began to carefully wipe the younger man down. By the time Dean reached the back of his legs he couldn’t help but remember when they were kids. How Dean used to bathe Sam when he was a toddler. How his brother would giggle and splash water at him and how Dean would tickle him when they were supposed to be getting him dry and in his pj’s.

Dean swallowed hard as he stood, moving around to Sam’s front. Forcing himself to be… thorough. Knowing there would be consequences if he wasn’t. 

* * *

Sam was pleased by the slave and the way the man was careful and thorough. When the man was kneeling in front of him, his face so close to Sam's groin, Sam gave a small groan and ran his fingers through the slave's dripping wet hair.

"So do you give good blow jobs, pet?" Sam mused. "I haven't had a good blow job in a while." He smiled as the slave froze. "No, no, keep drying, pet. I'm just thinking aloud."

As the slave worked his way up until he was standing in front of Sam, Sam tilted his head and studied the slave. "Look at me. Look me in the eyes," Sam demanded.

He ran his hand alongside Dean's cheek. "Look at those green eyes of yours. Like pale emerald, or jade. So empty of life. I suppose my father's tortured all that out of you, eh? I bet there was fire in them once."

He heard the knock at his door. "Enter!" he called then touched his lips to Dean's. "There sweet pet. Now dry yourself." He slipped into a red silk robe and put a black one identical to his own on the counter. "You may wear that if you you'd like. Your dinner is here. I want my pet happy and content and comfortable. Join me as soon as you're dry," he commanded and left the bathroom. He lifted the covers from the food and nodded his approval. Sampling the sweet nectar he licked his lips. "Good, very good. Dismissed," he told them and brought the cart over to the sofa then poured himself a glass of wine.

"Hurry up, pet," Sam calling, an underlying warning in his tone. 

* * *

Dean wasn’t all that surprised to feel Sam’s fingers in his hair practically the second he’d knelt in front of the younger man. He hated his hair being so long. It gave demons the perfect handhold. He wasn’t at all surprised by Sam’s question either, he knew it was going to happen sooner or later, even though he’d been praying for later. Much later.

Did he give good blowjobs? Yes. He’d been taught well. He’d had to learn how to give a blowjob with his jaw fractured in two places, in fact. His first two punishments for doing a bad job. He’d learned quickly. He’d done it a thousand times before, probably more, and every time it sickened him. This time he knew it was going to be so much worse.

He wasn’t sure if he was going to be able to do it. Even if he closed his eyes and tried to pretend it was just like every other time.

Sam suddenly releasing him without making him blow the younger man _did_ surprise him but he wasn’t going to question it. Dean simply let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and continued his task. He finished drying off Sam’s body as quickly and thoroughly as possible. Trying to ignore how familiar it was, the scars he recognized, some from wounds he’d stitched himself… so familiar even after all this time. Living in such close quarters with another man all your life it couldn’t be helped.

When Sam ordered him to look at him, Dean reluctantly lifted his head though he stared at a place over his brother’s shoulder rather than looking into the younger man’s eyes. His jaw clenching and his eyebrows narrowing the slightest amount when the younger man mockingly mentioned how Azazel had beaten the life out of him. It might have been true but Dean didn’t really need the reminder. For a moment he had the insane urge to break Sam’s nose, his right hand even curled into a fist… as much as it was able to… but the urge withered and died almost before it had fully formed.

Using the same towel as he’d used on Sam, because he hadn’t been given permission to use another, Dean began drying himself off. Relaxing only the slightest amount when Sam left the bathroom. Purposefully refusing to look in the mirror again. He knew that Sam had healed him, mostly in his face, and as hard as it had been seeing what he’d looked like before, it would be even harder seeing him look more like the way he remembered before all of this.

He didn’t take nearly as long as he had drying off Sam, leaving the used towel on the floor since he didn’t know where it went, and picking up the robe that the other man had left for him. It was strange putting it on. He hadn’t worn any type of clothing for almost five years and especially not something so soft. The silky fabric felt more than strange against his bare skin.

When he heard Sam call to him, Dean took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then made his way back into the bedroom. He saw Sam sitting on a couch and approached the younger man even though he felt like he’d much rather jump out the window. When he was close enough Dean dropped to his knees, taking up his usual position when dealing with Azazel, staring at the floor. 

* * *

Sam smiled, seeing the slave drop to his knees.

"Do you fully appreciate the advantages of clothes? You are given an opportunity to imagine what is beneath the fabric. You are also given a reason to slow down and truly appreciate the flesh as it is tantalizingly revealed."

Sam patted the cushion beside him. "Come, pet, sit beside me."

After Dean settled on the couch, Sam pulled the cart of food close. "This is for you. Eat as much as you'd like. Sirloin tips in wine sauce, herb roasted pheasant, seasoned fried potatoes, escargot, spinach and artichoke dip with fresh bread, brushetta, steamed vegetables, and desserts of Italian crème cake, chocolate torte and…" Sam paused frowning a bit. "…apple pie.

"There's milk, juice, wine, water, beer, or whiskey to drink. Some sweet nectar as well, which you will drink some of after you've eaten. I know Father has likely given you little more than scraps, if that, but I want you have the opportunity to forget all of that, I want you to enjoy your time with me this evening and everything I can offer you. Perhaps Father is done with you and you might become mine. If that's the case, I certainly want you to put some meat on your bones. I'll treat you well, assuming you are well behaved," Sam said, picking up a seasoned French fry and breaking off a small piece, fed it to Dean.

"You ought to sample a bit of everything," Sam encouraged, offering Dean a fork to eat with.

* * *

Pet…

Dean had always hated that word. Azazel called him that. That’s probably where Sam had picked it up.

At first Azazel had taken it upon himself to torture him. To break him. Nothing had roused defiance in Dean quicker than the demon calling him that. That was probably why the yellow-eyed bastard did it. Azazel just loved beating that defiance out of him. It took almost two years but the demon had finally succeeded.

But somehow, hearing Sam call him that after all this time, stirred that long almost forgotten feeling in him. Why wouldn’t Sam even call him by his fucking _name_? Why wouldn’t he even acknowledge he was his brother when he was about to _rape_ him? Was that really all he was to Sam now? A pet?

Dean felt anger and despair welling up in his throat almost choking him as he moved to sit by Sam. If he could have screamed he probably would have. Instead he merely stared at the tray of food in front of him. His mouth watering and his stomach clenching with hunger. At the same time bile rising in his throat at the thought of what Sam wanted from him, what his brother was going to do with him, and the younger man having the _fucking nerve_ to tell him he wanted him to enjoy it. Feeding him… like a pet…

Something snapped inside of Dean then, and instead of reaching for any of the succulent food being offered to him he grabbed one of the silver knives instead quickly. He stood and turned on Sam, knocking the tray to the floor in the process, and lunged for the younger man with the knife.

Nothing rational was driving him now. He didn’t know whether he really wanted to kill Sam, or for Sam to kill him. Either way was a win/win situation in his opinion right now. 

* * *

Sam sensed the turmoil suddenly rearing its head in the slave beside him. In a fluid instant the slave was on his feet, food scattering across the floor and a silver knife glinted in the man's hand. Instinct caused Sam to react, grip the slave's wrist, and with his powers, simply crush the bones into fragments. The knife fell from the slave's hand. Sam grabbed the slave's other wrist.

"Like a wolf raised from a pup, beaten into submission, docile then suddenly the spirit in the _pet_ explodes. No wonder Father likes you," Sam grinned. He rose up, slipping his leg behind the slave's and brought him tumbling down on top of the food and broken plates and glasses, Sam landing on top of him. With his mind, he knocked away any weapons that might be within reach and kept the man trapped beneath him.

"If this is the way you want to play, you want for me to take you, I'm up for it. In fact, I much prefer something with spirit to bury my cock in. Look at the way your eyes burn." He squeezed the man's shattered wrist and grinned at the pain he saw pass over the man's face. "So you like it rough. Then rough is what you'll get."

He held the slave in place with his mind as he let go of his wrists. He stripped off his robe and opened the robe of the slave. He eyed the man's body hungrily. "What a fine specimen of human you are, pet."

Still holding the man with his mind, he gripped the slave's cock. "And how large and firm can get? Hmmm?"

Sam licked up Dean's cock, from balls to crown, then sucked his cock into his mouth. He worked him hard, knowing the pain would keep the man from stiffening. Not getting satisfactory results, he healed the man's wrist only enough to stop the worst of the pain. He knew the man likely had shards of glass in his back, but he didn’t care, the man apparently wanted the pain. He stroked his cock and sucked on his balls, finally getting some arousal from the man. Pleased, he continued to work him until the man was hard. Then he pulled off.

"Father likes me to suck his cock before he fucks me, and Mother likes when I fuck her. I've never sucked a slave's cock before, but yours was just too tempting. Look at it now, thick and heavy and dripping with need." Running his thumb over the slave's tip, he licked the pre-cum from his thumb. "Mmm, tasty for a slave."

Forcing Dean's legs apart he fingered his hole. Finding the nectar he liked so well, he poured it over Dean's balls and let it slide down to his hole. He licked at it and thrust his tongue repeated into Dean's hole, torturing his cock with intermittent strokes while he teased him. When he was satisfied, when felt the slave reacting with small thrusts against him, he stopped. Taking the nectar he poured some into the mouth of the slave which he forced open, not caring that the man half choked on it.

Sam positioned his hard cock at the man's hole, then leaned over the man, looking down at him. Running his hand over the slave's face he tsked. "You could have a full stomach. You could be drunk on wine. You could be in a soft bed, caressed by cashmere sheets, with someone who wanted to give you probably the first pleasure you've known since your world ended. Someone who was looking for a pleasure all night long, pleasure for us both because I am so damned tired of sobbing women and begging men, of tasting fear and disgust. For one night, I wanted a sliver of Paradise, to celebrate the death of the arch angel Raphael at my hands.

"Instead you choose a bed of glass and an empty stomach. Tonight, I will get my pleasure. I will fuck you until you bleed. I will fuck your ass, your mouth, and ride you like the beast you are." He leaned in and whispered in the slave's ear, "And then, I will extract the pound of flesh due me for you daring to raise a hand to me, the King of Hell, let alone a weapon. I don't know who you were in your former life, pet, but tonight, you will know you belong to me to do with as I please. If it will not be pleasure, then it will be pain. Alistair may be a master at torture, but he lacks my imagination, and more importantly, my ability to put you back in one piece once I have torn you apart."

Sam buried his cock inside the slave with one brutal thrust and captured his mouth, bruising it and biting as he released his mental hold on the slave for he wanted the man to writhe beneath him, caught between pleasures of the flesh and the agony of Sam's vicious attack.

* * *

At some level Dean knew his 'attack' was futile before he ever made a grab for the knife. He didn't care. Irrational rage born from years of unimaginable pain was what drove him. Years of torment finally boiled down to this one moment of ultimate betrayal. There was only so much torture a mind could take before it broke. There was only so much heartache a soul could endure before it shattered.

The voice in his head screamed. _Please! Don't do this, Dean! Don't make me hurt you! Please!_ But Dean ignored it completely because it was nothing but a lie. His brother didn't love him. His brother didn't are about him. His brother didn't even give a rats ass about him. He would have done anything for Sam. Anything. And his brother had betrayed him.

Judas and Brutus didn't hold a candle to Sam.

Had Sam asked Azazel to do this to him? To put him through a literal living hell for the last five years, just so Sam could one day offer him some small shred of 'kindness' and Dean would just lap it up like a good little dog? Hell no. He'd rip out Sam's throat. He'd cut out the younger man's heart and maybe he would eat _that_ since that's what it felt like Sam had done to him.

Yes, he'd known his attack was futile, but that didn't stop him the feeling of disappointment that welled in him when his knife never even got close to the younger man. That disappointment was quickly swallowed up by agony however when his wrist was shattered and Dean screamed silently. If he'd been any other man he might have passed out right then and there from the pain. But if nothing else all these years of torture had taught him to endure pain perhaps better than any other man alive.

He barely felt the broken glass shredding his back when Sam threw him to the ground. He grit his teeth when Sam punctuated his mocking of him by squeezing his already mangled wrist but that only made the hate in Dean's eyes burn brighter. Sam held him to the floor in invisible bonds stronger than iron but that didn't stop him from struggling. Twisting, hissing, and silently cursing the man above him when Sam started to touch him. Blood pouring thicker from the wounds in his back as his struggling only dug the pieces of glass and ceramic in deeper but he didn't care.

Dean wanted the pain. Used it to try and block out the feeling of Sam's hands, and then mouth, on his body. Unfortunately Sam was determined and his body began to respond despite the pain and his wishes. Dean's face was a mask of pure fury, both at Sam and his traitorous body, when the younger man was finally finished with his foreplay. Spitting out the sweet liquid Sam forced into his mouth and growling like an animal at his brother.

He couldn't stop the silent scream that ripped from him when Sam finally forced himself inside of him. If he could have made a sound it would have been a howl like a dying animal. Sam used that opportunity to kiss him brutally and release him from his mental bonds, which was a huge mistake on the younger man's part because Dean was far from docile at the moment. Sam's brutal attack only made him more wild.

Dean bit the other man viciously, hard enough that he immediately tasted Sam's blood in his mouth. Not caring in the least what his punishment might be for it, just feeling some matter of satisfaction that it was not only his own blood spilled tonight. Then without missing a beat he drew back his good arm and drove the heel of his palm as hard as he could into Sam's face. Effectively doing what he'd wanted to do all night, break Sam's nose.

* * *

If Sam thought he had cowed the man, he discovered quickly he was mistaken. The man's teeth tore into his lower lip, ripping open a wicked wound. With the blow to his face, he felt blood pour from his nose and pain ring through his skull. The slave dared to bite him, dared to hit him! Fury erupted inside him and he held the man frozen, drawing back his fist, ready to pound it into the face of the man. He held his arm there, shaking and ready, glaring down at the man whose body his cock was still inside of.

After a long deep breath he pulled out of the slave and stood up, keeping the man frozen in place. He walked into the bathroom and using a wet cloth, wiped away the blood, and healed his nose and lip. He looked at himself in the mirror. The King of Hell and he'd let this slave get the best of him.

_Only because he is Father's and I have long been curious about him. I should have known Father wouldn't have kept him around if he wasn't full of spirit._

Sam walked over to the closet and pulled out two sets of clothes. He dressed in one set, then turned to the slave. "You are surprising, pet, I'll give you that. After years in my father's care and still to have such strength of spirit. I am impressed. I remember that from the time I came into power, you have always been his." Although Dean was still frozen immobile, Sam lifted him up and to his feet then walked around behind him. He began pulling the fragments of glass and ceramic out of the back of the man. He healed a few of the wounds, the one that were deep and gushing blood. The others he let be.

Stripping the shredded black robe from the slave, he moved back around in front of him. "You're fearless. Or just simply insane. I don't know which." The raw fury in the man's eyes was unbelievable and the hate rolled off him in waves. Sam chuckled softly. "If I were to kill you now, in this instant, I doubt you would be a ghostly spirit beyond the time you were brought to Hell. Once here, with that sort of hate and anger, you'd become a demon in a matter of days. I could give you a meatsuit like this one and you would worship and adore me and I could fuck you forever. Father would probably be pissed that I killed you, but the temptation is definitely there. You would make a fine demon, I've no doubt." He moved Dean over to where the clothes were.

"Get dressed," Sam ordered and released Dean from his hold. 

* * *

It was a pathetic sort of victory. But seeing Sam reel back, blood pouring from his nose, in pain, pain Dean had caused him, was a victory nonetheless. A moment later it was over of course. Once more Dean found himself pinned to the floor, held in invisible bonds he had no hope of breaking, and Sam was pulling his fist back to strike him. Dean closed his eyes, ready to take whatever his brother dished out. If Sam beat him to death for this, so be it. At least he had the satisfaction of not giving Sam what he wanted.

But the blows Dean was expecting didn’t come. He hissed through his teeth when he felt Sam suddenly withdraw from his body and opened his eyes. Followed the younger man with hate filled eyes as Sam left the room.

Why had Sam stopped? Why hadn’t the other man ‘taken his pound of flesh’ and then some? Confusion began to seep into his thoughts, replacing some of the rage that had taken him over so completely. When Sam returned the blood on his face was gone and the wounds were healed, much to Dean’s disappointment.

When Sam forced his body to move, to stand, Dean couldn’t help but wince in pain in spite of himself. He felt blood dripping from his body, down his legs, from where Sam had tried to use him. He felt even more blood dripping down his back, which flowed more freely as Sam yanked out the sharp pieces of glass that had cut him. His shattered wrist was on fire, held limply at his side, and he wasn’t sure if he would ever use it again. He was exhausted. Physically and mentally. What little strength he’d found leaving him as his adrenaline rush began to fade, even though his hate remained.

Sam finally released him from his mental hold and it was a wonder Dean remained standing. He glared at the younger man but he did not try to attack Sam again as much as he would have liked to. Instead limping slowly over to the clothing offered. Even though it probably wouldn’t take much for Sam to simply rip them off him if his brother decided to rape him again, at least it offered some measure of protection.

Getting dressed one handed in his condition wasn’t easy in the least but Dean managed. Once he was finished Dean turned to look at the younger man, waiting. 

* * *

Approaching the slave, Sam took hold of Dean's wrist and mended it.

"You're not going to be any fun in your condition," Sam sighed. With an almost resigned look he placed his hand in the center of Dean's chest and healed him fully, even pumping some extra energy into the man to give him some strength and endurance.

"Don't get stupid," Sam warned him and then turned back to the mess on the floor. With a wave of his hand he swept it all aside to the wall, along with the couch and fallen cart, everything, clearing out a large space. Sam walked out to the center of the cleared space and turned back to face the slave.

"All right, so you want to fight. You've got years of pent up fury. I spend many of my days training, using my abilities, learning to rip things apart. I haven't had a good non-lethal hand-to-hand in a long time. So, you and me, here and now, that's what we're going to do. I don't use powers. Neither of us picks up weapons of convenience. Strictly hand to hand. This is not to the death. Broken bones are acceptable. I'll heal us both when this is over. When the other is held and can't escape within a ten count counts as a win. We stay in this cleared out area during the fight. After the ten count, the other is released, or the win is forfeited. You win, you get a request. I'm going to assume you can read and write. It has to be a reasonable request. Since I don't know how long Father will permit me to keep you, it'll have to be something simple. Warm clothes until you're taken back to your cell. A dinner of your choice of food. Like I said, simple. I win and I get a kiss, a real kiss and you sleeping in my bed for the night. No sex, just sleeping in my bed with me, skin to skin. So call up some of that fury and hate and let's have at it, pet." Sam waved the slave forward.

* * *

Dean almost backed away when Sam approached him, but really what would that accomplish? It wasn’t like he had anywhere he could go. He probably wouldn’t make it out of this room or even a handful of steps for the door, if he tried to make a run for it.

So instead he held his ground defiantly, fully prepared to give his brother another broken nose or worse if Sam tried to pick up where they left off before. Still, if that were the case, why would Sam stop in the first place?

He wasn’t expecting Sam to take his wrist in hand and he almost flinched away. Despite how the touch was almost gentle it sent fresh flares of agony through the ruined bones. A moment later though Dean felt those bones begin to shift underneath his skin. The feeling of them knitting together unpleasant but not exactly painful. Finally the pain faded to nothing and his wrist was healed.

Dean looked at the young man, his eyes narrowed in anger and confusion. He had a feeling Sam’s idea of fun wasn’t something he wanted to engage in. It certainly hadn’t been before. Still Dean couldn’t exactly complain when the pain along his back and inside of him started to fade as well when Sam touched his chest.

Now what…

When Sam cleared a space in the middle of the room and made his intentions clear Dean couldn’t help but stare at the other man and blinking dumbfounded. Sam couldn’t possibly be serious. He wanted to fight him? Apparently Sam was quite serious as he laid out the ‘rules’ but of course Dean didn’t believe a damned word coming out of the younger man’s mouth.

Then again… why bother with any of this? Sam had made it quite clear what he wanted from him. Sam had proven he could just as easily take what he wanted whether Dean was willing to give it to him or not. So why offer this little ‘compromise’ now? And not even ask for what he _really_ wanted? Instead settling for a kiss and naked cuddle…

None of this made any sense…

But Sam was right about one thing. His fury still boiled underneath his skin like acid, eating its way deeper into him, fighting to get out. Was Dean really going to turn down the chance to kick Sam’s ass?

Nope.

It was really amazing just how much the body remembered even though his mind could barely recall what his life had been like before. It easily fell into the fighting stance his father had spent years teaching him, his feet apart, center of balance low, charging at Sam and feinting to the left. Blocking the blow aimed at his side. Dodging the next. Weaving to the side, crouching, and finally coming at Sam with an uppercut to the chin and following with a roundhouse kick aimed for the side of his brother’s face. 

* * *

Sam was impressed once again. The man knew how to fight. Sam had to focus to be careful not to use his powers out of sheer habit. He was more than a little surprised when he failed to land a blow on the slave. The next thing he knew a roundhouse kick sent him sprawling.

_Wake the fuck up,_ Sam chided himself and rolled away from the kick aimed at his ribs. He started to get up, half crouched, and instead of rising, swept his leg, catching the slave by surprise. By the time Sam had regained his footing though, so had the slave. Sam smiled grimly. This hadn't been how he had intended to spend his evening, but he couldn't deny he was enjoying it. After three blocked blows, he got through the slave's defenses and slammed his fist into the man's gut. The guy didn't miss a beat, even as he struggled to regain the wind knocked from him, and landed a solid fist into Sam's jaw. Before he knew it, the guy had landed two more, knocking him back. He kept his footing though and slammed his heel into the man's gut, and nailed the slave with a punch to the face. The guy grabbed him wrist with both hands and got him in an armlock. Before the man had a chance to fully gain his balance, Sam wrenched free, his shoulder popping painfully out of its socket.

Crap.

Sam retreated to the wall, slamming his shoulder against it, getting it back in place. The slave took the opportunity to charge him again, but Sam sidestepped and landed a right hook. The man returned the blow and son-of-a-bitch if the guy didn't break his fucking nose again.

* * *

It was just like any other time he and Sam fought. As kids practicing new moves their father had shown them. Roughhousing and play fighting as teenagers. More serious fights when they’d been pissed at each other as brothers often were. That night he had broken into Sam’s apartment and his brother had attacked him, thinking him a burglar or something. When Dad had died and Dean had rather thrown punches at Sam rather than talk to him.

At the same time it was nothing like any of those times. Because as much as he might have been pissed off at his brother those previous times he’d never hated him. Dean hated him now. Sam had betrayed him and he wanted to kill him.

Once upon a time the very idea had been impossible to Dean. When his father had told him that one day he might have to kill his brother, Dean had absolutely refused to believe it. He refused it even when Sam began to doubt himself. He refused it even when that bitch Meg had possessed his brother and made him do horrible things.

Now… he should probably be horrified that the idea of killing his brother came so easily to him. But that’s what insane amounts of rage and pain could do to a man he supposed. It wasn’t so hard to understand how men could so easily become demons once they were on the rack in hell, as Alistair had so kindly explained to him during one of their longer sessions.

But something else was different too. Dean’s body knew all of Sam’s moves. Knew them as well as his own. Sam should know all of his too… but a punch Sam should have easily seen coming, his brother missed. Dean knew he shouldn’t be having this easy of a time getting past his brother’s defenses. Sure, Sam got by his too, but Dean had been beaten and starved for the past five years, his body had wasted away to practically nothing, while Sam’s was strong and fit. Sam should have a clear advantage over him right now, even without his powers. But Sam didn’t…

Dean blocked those questions out of his mind however before they could begin to distract him. Once he had Sam up against the wall, Dean did not let up for one instant. His punch to Sam’s face was followed up by a series of punches to the other man’s ribs. When Sam doubled over, Dean grabbed his hair and slammed his knee up into Sam’s face. Pulling him by the hair and throwing the younger man off balance. He hooked his leg behind Sam’s knee and used his own weight to trip his brother up. Sending them both to the ground with Dean on top. Pulling his fist back Dean aimed one brutal punch to the younger man’s face after another. 

* * *

Something wasn't right. Sam had taken down a fucking arch-angel and this half-starved slave was whipping his ass. It was like he couldn't focus, like he kept getting distracted and he couldn't even define what it was that was distracting him. Like his mind was telling him to dodge right when he should be dodging left. The slave had landed several blows at this point and Sam was feeling every one of them. Now the man was on top of him, pounding on him. He fought through the haze in his mind and twisted his legs around the slave and with a hard shove, reversed their positions. He began returning the favor, though trying to see through the blood and his swelling eyes was just pissing him off. He gave a final solid blow and could tell he'd knocked the man senseless. Flipping him over, he put him in an arm lock and wrapped his free arm around the slave's throat. He held him there, waiting for the man to regain some semblance of coherency.

"Easily a ten count," Sam said, though his lip was swollen as badly as his eye. "My win. Do you agree?" he asked.

* * *

Dean had let his anger get the better of him. Lost focus. His only concern beating his brother’s face into an unrecognizable pulp rather than on the fight as a whole. A stupid move. Sam wasn’t beaten, and the younger man showed it when he suddenly reversed their positions and started to give Dean the same treatment.

He tried to regain the upper hand he’d found before, but whatever his advantage had been it was gone now. Sam was too strong. Too heavy. Dean simply didn’t have the muscle mass to throw his brother off of him. After several hard blows to his face, Dean was barely coherent and starting to sag in the other man’s grip.

Still he tried to twist away when Sam flipped him over, when he felt the arm around his throat he tried grabbing at it but he simply couldn’t break the hold. He was beaten. They both knew it. Finally, reluctantly, Dean went limp in the other man’s arms.

His breath came out in harsh pants. His face felt swollen like a balloon. His ribs throbbed where Sam had landed several punches. Most of his knuckles were split open and he had to spit blood from his mouth. But that fiery rage he never thought could possibly be sated burned lower now.

And for the first time in five years, Dean Winchester felt alive. 

* * *

Sam smiled and eased his hold on the slave. He got off the man and closing his eyes, healed the man's injuries then stood and helped the man to his feet, wincing as his ribs complained.

"Take a good look at what you did," Sam said with a soft almost-laugh. "Because it's going away."

After giving the man a moment to look over the damaged he'd wreaked on Sam, Sam healed himself. He looked at the way the man seemed to stand a little straighter. "You're good," he said, squeezing the man's shoulder. "Better than I expected, but I'll admit, it was a lot harder to keep myself from using my abilities during the fight than I expected. I might have to do more of this, because if a slave can kick my ass, I'm depending too much on my abilities." He stepped closer to Dean. "Now, the first part of what I won. A kiss. A real kiss from you. I know you hate me. I can feel it. I can see it. I just got a taste of it. But that was the deal and I won. Pretend I'm someone you loved once, whatever it takes, but I want a real kiss."

* * *

Sam helping him up after the younger man released him took Dean by surprise. Sam healing his injuries before healing his own was another. He turned to look at the younger man when he was told, feeling more than a little satisfaction seeing the damage he’d done to his brother. Then, of course, disappointment that it was so easily erased.

Had Sam let him hit him? The younger man had certainly overpowered him easy enough in the end. At any time Sam could have used his powers to stop him too. Had this just been some kind of game for Sam to get Dean to work off some of his anger, like using a fucking stress ball?

Dean was ashamed to admit that it had worked to some degree. He still wanted to kill Sam, but the blind urge to attack him was sated, for now. He could think more clearly than he’d been able to think in a while and his mind was burning with questions he wasn’t sure he really wanted the answers to.

He frowned at Sam’s praise and the touch to his shoulder. Unable to stop himself from stiffening when his brother moved closer to him and demanded his reward. Dean could refuse… but he had a feeling that wouldn’t go over well at all. He had no idea if the younger man was going to keep his end of the bargain, to leave it as just a kiss and sleeping in bed together, but he didn’t really want to chance Sam changing his mind if Dean broke his end of the deal.

Slowly Dean lifted his hand and forced him to place it on the side of Sam’s neck. His fingers curling behind the younger man’s neck and his thumb running across his jaw. He could do this. He’d done far worse in his life.

Dean closed his eyes, hoping it would make things easier, and held his breath as he leaned in closer to the younger man. Hesitating only a moment before he brushed his lips against Sam’s, barely enough to be considered a touch at all at first, and then firmer. At first nothing more than a dry closed mouthed kiss, lips brushing against lips. He shuddered a little in disgust but when he didn’t vomit he parted his lips and allowed his tongue to swipe across his brother’s lower lip. His fingers sliding back into Sam’s hair, forcing his brother’s head to a better angle as his tongue pushed inside.

* * *

Sam was pleased the slave did as agreed. He really expected a closed mouth kiss but when he saw the guy was going to give him more, he readily opened his mouth and let in the invading tongue. Yeah, he was the Boy King and yeah, he pretty much held ultimate power, but he had a feeling if he let the slave keep control of the situation, he'd get much more of what he wanted.

Wrapping his arms around the man, he pulled him closer, gently tangling his tongue with the slave's. This…this was what he wanted. He knew the slave hated it, but the slave was neither broken and blindly doing as he was told, nor was he whimpering and crying. Sam could almost believe the man enjoyed it, the way his tongue investigated Sam's mouth. He gave a soft moan of approval and it took everything left in him not to take over the kiss, not to rub his slowly hardening member against the man. That hadn't been in the deal, and that was one thing about demons, you didn't break a deal. He might not be a demon, but that was his heritage and he was their kind and he would abide by a demon's laws.

When the slave finally ended the kiss, he could tell the man wasn't sure if there would be trouble. Sam held him and looked down into those beautiful green eyes. "That was fine," he said, running his fingers through the slave's tangled but soft hair. "Half the deal is met. That was exactly what I wanted."

He heard the soft growl of Dean's stomach and caressed the side of Dean's face. "I'll get you some food before we sleep. I need some blood anyhow, after all the use of my abilities. Go sit in the chair. Your meal won't be near as fancy or fine as offered before. And I think I'll keep silverware out of your reach. I'm in no mood for another fight. It's been a very long day."

He called to one of the demon guards to bring him some blood and Dean a hamburger, fully loaded, and two beers, and ordered him to be quick about it.

Sam moved the couch back to its former location and settled down on it. He shut his eyes. A migraine was beginning to pound in his temples. He'd overextended himself today, plain and simple, what with the battle he'd fought earlier. The blood would surely help ease his headache more effectively than anything else.

* * *

Dean took Sam’s advice and thought about anything other than the fact that he was kissing his own brother. He hadn’t kissed anyone ‘willingly’ in so long it was a wonder he wasn’t out of practice or something. But like so many other things his body remembered the motions even if the sensations themselves were all but new to him now. Standing so close to someone that their body heat seemed to seep deep into his, feeling their breath against his face, the pleasant tingle of pleasure twining your tongue with another, tasting them for the first time, the thrill hearing them moan in pleasure…

The illusion was effectively broken however when Dean felt the other man’s arms wrap around his waist, drawing him closer, close enough that he could feel Sam’s hard cock press against him. Dean immediately stiffened in the other man’s arms but it took him a moment or two before he was able to break off the kiss. He wanted to step away immediately, get as far away from Sam as he possibly could, but his brother still had a hold of him and wasn’t letting him go.

So much for keeping up his end of the deal…

Dean’s eyes narrowed a bit when Sam called his kiss ‘fine’ of all things. After all that was Sam insulting him now? He pushed himself away from his brother with a scowl as soon as the other man relaxed his hold on him enough for him to do so. Wiping the back of his hand across his mouth in disgust.

Blood? His brother was fucking drinking _blood_ now too? Why was he surprised? It was becoming increasingly clear to him that thing now sitting on the couch was not his brother any longer. It was easier to think of it like a demon riding in his brother’s skin, or a shapeshifter. It might not be a demon, at least not in the literal sense. It might still _look_ like Sam but it was far from human. Sam’s powers, the things Azazel had told him his brother had done, the things his brother had done to _him_ , now blood…

No. That wasn’t his brother. His brother was dead. Just like he was dead. Azazel had killed them both…

But as Dean glanced over at the other man slumped on the couch holding his head, he felt a painful tightening in his throat. That thing had no right to look so much like his brother. That evil son of a bitch that had burned the world, had him tortured for years, and tried to rape him had no business looking so weak and almost… human… now.

Dean forced himself to look away, moving to sit in a chair as far away from Sam as he could. Unwanted questions floating to the surface above that see of anger Sam had managed to open the floodgates on. Dean hadn’t fought like that, resisted like that, felt that kind of emotion since the first years of his imprisonment. Normally when it became too much for him to bear his mind retreated into that cold numb place that became increasingly harder to wake up from. But this time he hadn’t. This time he’d fought back.

He looked at Sam even though he didn’t really want to. Dean studied the younger man like he was trying to put together pieces of a puzzle. His memory flashed to the last time he had seen his brother. His _real_ brother. Terrified. For him. Because Azazel was going to kill him. There had been love in his brother’s eyes then. The love of a brother. The kind of love that made someone do anything, give anything, to protect the one they loved. The kind of love Dean had once felt for Sam. There was none of that love inside Sam now. Not even a glimmer of it. Sam wouldn’t even call him by name…

Why? Why wouldn’t Sam even say his name? Not once… That lack of recognition gnawed at Dean like a dog on a bone. Things Sam had said to him, previously ignored, but now he couldn’t as a growing black hole of horror filled the pit of his stomach. _I don't know who you were in your former life, pet._ The things Sam had done. Things the brother Dean remembered could never do. The way Azazel had touched his brother’s head, Sam screaming…

Oh god.

Sam wasn’t willfully denying the fact that Dean wasn’t his brother. To Sam, he _wasn’t_. To Sam he was only a slave. Azazel’s slave. Sam hadn’t betrayed him. Sam didn’t even remember him!

* * *

Sam sat on the sofa, wiling his headache to go away but to no avail. He could rip apart an archangel but these damned headaches he was at the mercy of. Soon there was a knock on the door.

"Enter," Sam said.

"Sammy!" Ruby called carrying in the tray of food and drink. "How is the King faring tonight?"

"Headache," Sam admitted, letting his head fall back and looking at his first lieutenant. She'd changed meatsuits again. He almost laughed. It was the blackhaired woman he'd fucked at dinner. "She had to have been in pissy shape when you took her."

Ruby scowled. "She wasn't supposed to have been touched. I'd marked her as mine. Fucking idiots put her in the line-up."

"She was a good fuck," Sam said giving her a smile as his gaze swept over her body.

"Yeah, yeah, so I've heard," Ruby said. She looked at pile of debris up against the wall as she set the tray down on the couch. Sam started to reach for the half full goblet of blood when Ruby smacked his hand. "Stop being impatient."

She pulled out a knife and slit her wrist, letting the blood pour into the cup, finishing filling it. Sam touched her wrist healing it then picked up the goblet and downed its entire contents in one go.

"Must have been a bad headache. So what's with the redecorating. Not your typical style, Mr. Clean."

Sam sighed, feeling his headache ease almost immediately. "It was." He looked over at the mess. "Just some rough play. Take the food to him," Sam said, snatching one of the beers.

Ruby noticed the slave for the first time.

"Azazel's favorite pet dog?" she asked, surprised.

"Yeah, a Christmas present for my recent victory," Sam said and took a drink of the beer.

Ruby set the tray with the hamburger and beer on the slave's legs. She gripped the slave's jaw and twisted his head one way and then the other. She gave a low whistle. "Damn, he cleans up nice."

"Ruby," Sam said warningly.

She let go of the slave and raised her hands. "Just saying. You get to keep him?"

"Don't know," Sam said with a shrug. He glanced at Dean. "You can eat. You don't have to finish it and you can take anything off of it you want."

"Well if you get to keep him and ever get tired of him, send him my way. I don't have the right equipment," she grabbed her crotch, "in my typical meatsuits so I've never had the pleasure of fucking him." She straddled Sam's legs. "So I hear you liked this pretty and might want to fuck her again."

Sam grinned at her. "Yeah I might. But not tonight. My one 'flaw' is weighing heavy on me tonight. I'm not sure when the last time was I got any sleep."

Ruby leaned in and shoved her tongue down his throat, kissing him thoroughly. "Then rest up sweety. You earned it." She stood and headed out. "I was going to give you an update, but there's nothing time critical. All's pretty quiet out there. I'll get with you tomorrow after you've slept. Enjoy the pretty boy."

"Thanks, Ruby," Sam said, then took another drink of his beer and looked over to see Dean had finally taken a bite of the burger and was slowly chewing it.

* * *

Dean was still in more than a little shock over his revelation when the knock came at the door. His eyes flew to the door, his body stiffening, and his heart began to beat harder against his ribs. For a moment the fear that they had come to take him back to the dungeons was acute, but then he remembered that Sam hadn’t yet collected on the other half of his deal yet. Surely he wouldn’t send him away till he’d at least done that.

When the door opened and one lone demon walked in with a tray of food and a goblet of something Dean didn’t want to know but could probably guess, his heart rate slowly returned to normal though he didn’t relax. He grit his teeth, anger flashing hot in his eyes when that demon bitch dared to call his brother ‘Sammy’.

_Only he gets to call me that._

He remembered his brother’s words to Gordon as clearly as though Sam had spoken them yesterday. Now this demon bitch called his brother by his pet name and Dean would never be able to again. A knife of pain in his gut twisted and he forced himself to look away from the two of them. He didn’t want to watch Sam getting all chummy with a demon and he didn’t want them to see the turmoil he was in.

Did his brother really not remember him? Was that what that fucker Azazel had done to Sam? It made sense… or was he still just trying to make excuses for Sam? Unwilling to believe that his brother could possibly turn into this on his own. Even their father hadn’t been sure…

He was pulled out of his thoughts when the tray suddenly landed in his lap. Dean turned to face the demon bitch, angry at himself that he’d let himself get so lost in his thoughts he hadn’t noticed she was so close. It was just fucking stupid to let his guard down like that around demons. His eyes narrowed in anger when she caught his face and started examining him. He almost twisted free, knocked her hands away from him, but despite his utter defiance against Sam having another demon in the room was starting to remind him of his position here. As though he could ever really forget… but he had… for a few moments…

Dean was glad when Sam told her to let him go. Guess being Azazel’s, and now Sam’s, ‘pet’ had its advantages. Even though he’d been fucked plenty of times in the dungeons by probably hundreds of demons. Azazel had lost interest in him rather quickly after Dean had broken, giving him to whoever wanted to play with him. To do anything they wanted with him as long as they didn’t kill him. As soon as Sam lost interest with him Dean had little doubt that’s exactly where he’d end up again. He looked down at the offered food sitting on his lap, somehow not feeling the least hungry even though he hadn’t eaten in days, maybe longer.

He was more than a little grateful when the demon bitch finally left. Dean started picking at his food. Not in the mood for having it literally shoved down his throat if he pissed Sam off by not eating on his own. It was good. Better than good. He hadn’t eaten anything that wasn’t half-rotten in so long he’d probably swear up and down that it was the best god damned thing he’d ever tasted. Still he barely ate enough to ease some of the painful cramping in his stomach.

The beer though? That he’d finish. Because alcohol sounded really damn good right now. 

* * *

Sam watched the slave barely do more than nibble at his food. "I know I said you could eat as much or as little as you want, but I want you to eat at least a quarter of that burger," Sam said. "If Father does let me keep you, I definitely intend to get some pounds on you. I can add some muscle mass to you, but the mass has to come from somewhere."

The slave seemed to enjoy the beer which pleased Sam. "I'd have had more beer brought for you but I figure by the time you eat some of that burger and drink the beer, you're going to be plenty full. So what the hell did you do to make my Father single you out like he has? And I really don't understand why he hasn't killed you if he's got such a grudge for you. Torturing a soul is much more effective than torturing flesh." Sam shook his head. "And making you mute. That's just not like him either. You're something of a mystery, pet," he said, taking another drink of his own beer.

Damn, he was bone tired. Even the jolt of blood didn't seem to give him much energy. He stood up and went over to some curtains that he pulled open. Although it looked like a window, it was a magical pane that let him see a wide selection of views. "Eastern Seaboard, beachfront," Sam said. The blank screen came to life and sound filled the room, sounds of surf breaking on the shore and the cry of the occasional bird. The beach was drenched in shadows and the ocean looked a little grey, whitecaps visible across its surface. Dark clouds in the distance were taking on the bright colors of a sunrise.

He sat back down on the sofa and drank his beer in silence, watching the sun slowly rise, the water growing a bit more blue and day broke over the beach.

"Merry Christmas, pet," Sam finally said and stood, beginning to strip out of his clothes. "Finish up. It's time to sleep."

* * *

Dean looked up and glared at Sam a little but did as he was told and kept eating. If nothing else it delayed fulfilling the next part of the deal he’d made with his brother. The idea of sleeping next to the other man, naked, made his skin crawl. It wasn’t as though they hadn’t shared beds before. They’d done it often as kids growing up. They’d even done it as teenagers and adults when necessary. But having your brother’s cock shoved up inside you tended to change your perspective a bit.

While he ate, Sam talked. Dean wondered if the younger man honestly expected him to somehow answer his questions or if the younger man was just thinking out loud. Still Sam’s musings couldn’t help but raise questions inside of Dean as well.

Why _hadn’t_ Azazel killed him yet? Sure, he had amused the demon in the beginning. But the yellow-eyed bastard barely tortured him himself anymore. So why bother keeping him alive all this time?

Dean watched as his brother got up and went over to the ‘window’ raising an eyebrow when the darkness was replaced by the image of the coast. Waves, the sky, birds, and the sun… all things he hadn’t seen in what felt like forever. Things he’d always taken for granted… he swore he could even smell the salt from the sea. He watched, almost mesmerized, as the sun began to slowly rise over the water.

Neat trick. Dean wondered briefly if that thing got HBO. Was there even still HBO?

His eyes shot back to Sam when the younger man suddenly wished him Merry Christmas of all things. Was that some kind of a joke? If it was, it wasn’t funny. At all. Dean glared at the other man and suddenly got up, no longer the least bit interested in the food he set aside on a nearby table.

He stalked over to the large ornate desk on the other side of the room. Finding what he needed wasn't difficult. He pulled out a piece of paper and a ridiculously expensive looking pen from a drawer and Dean wrote a single word on the paper. Then he walked over to Sam, all but throwing the paper at the younger man.

Dean glared at his brother while he waited for Sam’s reaction when he read what was on the paper.

_DEAN._   


* * *

Sam watched as the slave seemed annoyed with him and rose to his feet. His eyes narrowed a little as the slave approached his desk without asking. When he saw what the slave was doing, he relaxed a little, but couldn't help feeling a little bit irritated by the sheer impertinence of the slave. He reminded himself he'd wanted a spirited slave, but he also expected the slave to know his damned place. He'd let the slave get away with more than he should have and he had no idea why. And he was still letting him get away with shit. He was not known for being as generous as he had been with the slave. For fuck's sake, he'd planned on having sex all night long with the handsome piece of flesh. Why the hell was he settling for a kiss and sleeping beside him innocently?

The deal had been struck, he wasn't going to go back on it, but what had possessed him to make such a deal in the first place?

_Loneliness._

He wanted to deny it, but it was true. He missed being with humans…but how could he miss something he'd never had?

He picked up the paper the slave had thrown at him. "Dean?" He furrowed his brow in confusion looking at the word then back at the slave. His eyebrows suddenly lifted. "This is your name?" He gave a small sudden laugh. "Don't like being called 'pet' all the time?" Growing more serious, letting some of his irritation show, he gave a nod. "Okay. You curb your insolence, I'll call you Dean." Wadding up the paper he threw it in the trash. "Now, strip and get into bed, Dean. I'm tired."

Sam finished undressing and slid under the covers. With swish of his hand, he closed the curtain across the viewscreen, but left it on to listen to the ocean. He extinguished lights in the rest of the quarters, leaving only the one by the bed on as he waited for 'Dean' to do as he was told.

* * *

The confusion on Sam’s face when he read the paper was like the final nail in the coffin. But it wasn’t until his brother’s question that Dean felt like the world had dropped out from underneath him.

_This is your name?_

It was the final piece of proof. Sam didn’t know his name. Sam didn’t know _him_. That wasn’t something someone just _forgot_ , he didn’t care how fucked up his brother had become. Azazel. Azazel must have done this to his brother. The only real question was, how much had he made Sam forget? Sam didn’t know him. Sam called that demon bastard father. Did Sam remember… anything… about being human?

Dean honestly wasn’t sure if that knowledge made him feel better or worse. Did it comfort him to know that it wasn’t really Sam who led a fucking demon army against the world? Did it make things any better knowing it wasn’t really his brother who’d almost raped him tonight?

Honestly? No. It didn’t. Because it meant something else too. It meant Sam was gone… his brother was dead and the thing in his place wasn’t even a shadow of the man Dean once knew.

Dean closed his eyes, fighting back tears as ‘Sam’ got ready for bed. He wouldn’t cry in front of this ‘man’. Wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing his tears even though Dean felt like something was literally breaking inside his chest. His heart. Crumbling to dust. He’d never… never really mourned the loss of his brother before now. Now? He couldn’t.

He dimly heard Sam’s order, heard the impatience behind it, but Dean didn’t even have the will right now to bristle at it. He did as he was told. Stripping down wasn’t hard. Being naked now was more familiar to him than wearing clothes. Dean didn’t look at Sam as he moved over to the bed, sat on the edge of it, and slid under the covers facing away from the younger man.

To say this day had been exhausting, both physically and mentally, was like saying Hell was a nice summer climate. But even as tired as he felt Dean was sure he’d get no rest today and it had nothing to do with Sam. At least, nothing to do with this Sam.

_I’m sorry, Sammy. I’m sorry._

A single tear finally broke free despite his best efforts to hold them back, and Dean immediately turned his face into the pillow. Hiding the evidence before it could be seen. 

* * *

Once the slave was in bed, Sam spooned himself up against him, wrapping him in his arms. He planted a light kiss on the back of the slave's neck. The man was stiff in his arms, tense.

"I'll keep my word. I won't try to fuck you, Dean. You can relax. Pretend my arms are those of a past love. I'd be lying if I said I didn't want anything from you. I had planned to have a long night of sex with you. But that wasn't the deal. Right now all I want is someone to hold. You're safe in my arms tonight. No one will hurt you. You can sleep warm and comfortable, and I'll keep the nightmares at bay." Settling himself a little closer to Dean, he rested his chin on Dean's shoulder. "I promise. Sleep."

Sam closed his eyes, but not before he focused his abilities on Dean and used them to soothe and relax the man's racing thoughts. His abilities would keep the dark dreams away from his slave and maybe himself.

_His slave._ He liked the sound of that.

* * *

He’d already been tense even before Sam touched him. Feeling the other man’s arms wrap around him, his body pressed close, Dean’s muscles drew tight as a bow. If he tensed any more Dean was sure he’d risk snapping a few tendons in his muscles. At that point he was sure he’d welcome that pain. Physical pain he’d learned to endure well. This? This kind of despair he had no defense for.

Sam’s words whispered into his ear brought him absolutely no comfort. Dean almost wished he’d simply given the other man what he’d wanted. Let Sam use him then discard him. Sam would have gotten bored with him eventually. Just as Azazel had. Then Dean could be alone. In his cell. He so desperately wanted to be alone right now. Away from the man who was no longer his brother. Away so he could properly mourn for the brother he’d lost. The brother he’d failed…

Dean felt the push of Sam’s powers at the edge of his mind. Knew what Sam was doing as soon as he felt himself start to relax in spite of his wishes. Felt his despair begin to slip away, replaced by a blissful numbness.

He didn’t try to fight it. His eyes slid closed and he fell gratefully into the arms of darkness. A brief respite from the hell his world had become. The only peace he’d ever know in life, or death. 


	2. Chapter 2

His dreams were pleasant for a change. Dreams of a black car with music that was a little too loud, cookouts with hotdogs and hamburgers. Drinking beer and looking up at the stars. Laughter and happiness.  


  
The warm body he felt against him had him smiling too. His mind began to think of taking pleasure in that body, of fucking that body, and his cock readily responded. When he opened his eyes, he remembered his promise, the deal. It was Azazel's pet in his arms. He didn't understand the strong desire he had to keep the slave for his own, but he was feeling possessive of him.

With a broader smile, sensing the man was still asleep, he slipped into the man's mind, finding memories that seemed to please the man. He didn't bother to look at the memories, he didn't care what they were. So long as they made the man feel good. Using his mind he stimulated the man's cock, found his prostate and brushed over that time and again, bringing the man to arousal as he slept.

Satisfied once the man had a hard on matching his own, he let the man be and stretched. He threw back the covers and climbed out of bed. "Kaylin!" he called, "Have breakfast brought for me and my slave."

Hearing Dean stir he turned and looked at the man. "Good morning, pet—Dean. Breakfast is on its way. Did you sleep well? Did you dream of me?" Sam looked down at his own erect cock. "I certainly dreamed of you."

* * *

Dean slept deeper than he had in a long time. Deep enough that he was completely unaware of anything around him. Deep enough that he didn’t even dream. It was perhaps the first peaceful sleep he’d had in years. When images finally began to flash before his mind’s eye they weren’t what he’d come to expect.

He dreamed of the old house that his father had rented one summer. Some no name town in the middle of South Carolina. He had been eleven. Sam had been seven. Their father was away, hunting something Dean couldn’t even remember.

Bored, nothing else to do, he’d broken into the junkyard and ripped off two half rusted bikes. One for him and one for Sam. He’d put them back together using spare parts he found around the place. Bought new tires with money they’d earned from collecting beer and soda cans along the side of the road.

The two bikes were probably death traps waiting to happen but he and Sam rode them everywhere around that little no name town. Down to the lake where he and his brother spent the hottest days swimming in the slightly murky water. When they got tired they under the shade of the large willow tree that grew on the bank until the stars came out. They’d ride into the center of town to visit the library, one of the only places that actually had air conditioning. There he’d sit and watch his brother read for hours, the kid was only seven but he already loved to read, just couldn’t get enough of it. One day the guy who’d owned the ice cream shop took pity on them one day and given him and his brother free cones. Sam had chosen strawberry and Dean mint chocolate chip.

When their dad came back, saw the bikes, he’d been pissed as hell. They’d left that little no name town less than a week later. Left the bikes behind to rust on the porch. But Dean didn’t care. It had been one of the best summers of his life.

Dean frowned in his sleep when the dreams suddenly shifted. Fooling around in the closet with some cheerleader senior when he’d been a sophomore. The back seat of the impala with his prom date, needless to say they’d never actually made it to the prom. The waitress who gave him a blowjob in the bathroom while his father and brother ate dinner. Behind the bar with some hot biker chick while his brother hustled her boyfriend at pool. He knew something was wrong. The memories were practically forced on him. Dean struggled awake even as his body began to respond not only to the mental but also… physical… stimulation being forced on it.

Waking up was like breaking the surface of water when he’d been drowning. Dean’s eyes snapped open and he gasped sharply, his heart was beating like a jackhammer against his ribs, and his breath came in harsh pants. He was… hard. Almost achingly so. He hadn’t woken this way in…

Dean’s eyes snapped to Sam when his brother spoke. No. Not his brother. Not anymore. His eyes moved down the younger man’s naked body almost against their will and his stomach cramped hard seeing the state Sam was in. It was probably a wonder he didn’t vomit everything he’d eaten the night before right then and there. It didn’t take a brain scientist to figure out that Sam had done this to him. In his sleep. In his dreams. The one place Dean had always been able to escape to, even if the dreams were nightmares, at least his mind was still his own. But what Sam had done… somehow that made Dean feel even more violated than he’d ever had before.

What did Sam care? For all he knew the betrayed look he gave the younger man only amused him, so Dean forced himself to look away. The ‘deal’ was done. Sam had kept up his end of the bargain. He hadn’t ‘touched’ him all night, as far as Dean knew. Now Sam could take whatever the hell he wanted…

Let him. Dean didn’t care anymore.

At least willing away his arousal wasn’t a problem. He’d started to wilt the second he’d woken up. 

* * *

The look his slave gave him made him falter a moment, his smile slipping from his face. And he had no idea why. He felt…guilty. Utter foolishness! He had ripped people apart with his mind, tortured innumerable souls and humans on the rack. He had fucking destroyed the world…and he felt _guilty_ over trying to give his slave some pleasure? Wanting his slave to enjoy the sex he wanted to have with him?

He didn't like these feelings. They had no place inside of him. He was the King of Hell, the King of the fucking world!

"Shower. Now!" Sam snapped, walking toward the bathroom, not looking back to ensure the slave was following him, because the slave damned well better. He turned on the water and once it was a comfortable temperature, he stepped inside.

He grabbed Dean's arm and yanked him in with him. "You're going to give me the best fucking blow job of my life. You're mine, now, understand, slave? You body is mine to ravage and take as I see fit. You cooperate, I'll give you pleasure, I'll treat you well. You fail to give me what I want, I will make your time with Father seem like Paradise. And I'll still take what I want. Now kiss me like you did last night, rub against me, pleasure me, then blow me," he ordered, pulling Dean into his arms. "Kiss me," he demanded, wanting to wipe away these strange feelings inside him that just really pissed him off.

* * *

Sam’s snapped order made Dean give the younger man a withering glare. One that the other man hadn’t seen since he was already heading into the bathroom, which was probably a good thing. He toyed with the idea of disobeying. Of seeing just how far he could push the other man before Sam decided to kill him. He’d tried that with Azazel before too. Once. It hadn’t been pretty.

So with a resigned sigh Dean slowly climbed out of the bed and stood then followed the younger man into the bathroom. When Sam yanked him into the shower with him, Dean didn’t try to resist. However when the other man began spelling out what he expected Dean to do, he found that now familiar flaring of defiance inside him.

Did Sam really think threats of pain meant anything to him now? In the last five years of his life he’d been tortured more often than he’d been allowed to have breakfast. He’d been raped more often than he’d been allowed to sleep through the night. He’d lost everything, absolutely everything, all he had _left_ in this life was pain. What the fuck was a little more?

That’s why instead of obeying he wrenched himself out of the other man’s grip, glaring at Sam, unafraid. He didn’t care what Sam did to him. He wouldn’t even fight the other man, he didn’t care enough anymore to fight. But whatever Sam wanted from him he was going to have to fucking take it. Because Dean wasn’t _giving_ this demon bastard shit. 

* * *

The sheer rebellion of the slave…after five years, the man still fought, still had some twisted pride and defiance. He glowered briefly at Dean while at the same time it excited him. He would take the time to win this man over, somehow. But for the moment, he wanted what he had not gotten the night before and he was in no mood to beat or torture the man when there was another way, a much easier way.

"If that is the way you want it, then I will take it, but you will gladly give it," Sam said coldly. He looked at Dean and focused. As he spoke his voice seemed to echo in the bathroom. "You love me. You adore me. You practically worship me, don't you Dean? You want to make me happy," he said, forcing his will on the slave, forcing his slave to believe the words he spoke. "You want to kiss me, you want to take my cock in your mouth and give me the best blow job you've ever given anyone. You feel loved and happy just washing my body and my hair. I am everything you have ever dreamed of, and I am here before you, within your reach. Kiss me, Dean. Show me how deeply you love me."

* * *

Dean paled when he realized what Sam was doing. He’d had it done to him once before. Being forced to press his own gun underneath his chin, ready to blow his brains out, and being unable to stop himself, wasn’t something easily forgotten. He was just as defenseless against Sam’s attack, which was so much stronger than Andy or his brother’s had been. He only managed to take one staggering step back, shaking his head in denial, before his body was no longer his own.

It felt like cold, oily, black fingers digging into his mind. Razor sharp claws ripping past any resistance he had. What he wanted no longer mattered. His will was easily crushed to dust by those fingers leaving only Sam’s will. Leaving only Sam’s desires.

He felt his pulse quicken as desire burned through his veins like liquid fire. His eyes glazing over with pure want, pure need, as he stared at Sam. His dick starting to harden even before he had touched Sam or Sam had touched him.

Dean stepped closer, his eyes never leaving Sam’s, his body aching with the need to touch his lover. He moaned silently as he ran his hands up the broad muscular chest. His arms circling around Sam’s shoulders as he pressed his body flush against the other man’s, suddenly unable to get close enough. He captured Sam’s lips with his own, rubbing his cock wantonly against the other man’s as he pushed his tongue greedily into his lover’s mouth. Pouring all of his passion and love into the kiss as their tongues tangled. 

* * *

Sam groaned as Dean did what he wanted. This was what he had desired last night. He had assumed Dean was broken and would easily follow his wishes. The fact that he had to 'push' the slave into this was something of a disappointment. The way the man kissed him, the fiery passion, it brought his cock hard all over again. He felt the slave's cock pressed against him, hard and ready.

"Mmmm, I wish you could speak to tell me how you feel about me," Sam said, running his hands along the slave's sides. "I like you, Dean. I like how you still fight, still have spirit. I want to keep you around for a long time." He kissed Dean lightly on the lips. "I want to treat you well, give you pleasure. I don't want to have to push you into it. I'll show you what I can give you and when this is over," Sam ran his fingers along Dean's cheek, "maybe you'll reconsider. I'm not known for being kind or generous, but," he shook his head, "you bring something out in me I don't understand…I want to…treat you different, special. And I have no idea why. That, I'll admit, intrigues me. Now, wash me, kindle a fire in me, show me what you can give me." 

* * *

Dean sighed in pleasure feeling the other man’s flesh harden against him. Knowing that he had pleased Sam filled him with joy the likes of which he’d never experienced before in his life. Certainly he’d never felt anything similar during the long years of his imprisonment. But none of that mattered now. Pleasing Sam was the only thing that mattered. Giving him pleasure. Making him happy. That was all Dean wanted now.

He shivered at Sam’s touch along his sides. Leaning into the gentle hand caressing his face like a content animal being pet. His eyes half lidded, glazed, like he was drunk. Drunk on the passion, the pleasure, the happiness, flowing through his veins. If he could have purred at Sam’s touch and gentle words he probably would have.

Then Sam was asking for more and Dean did not even hesitate in obeying. Picking up the container of soft soap and squeezing a generous amount into his hands. He started at Sam’s shoulders and worked the soap into a generous later, trailing his fingers slowly down the other man’s body. Over his chest, along his sides, and down the firm chiseled stomach.

Dean knelt in front of the other man, looking up at Sam with all the adoration in the world as he continued to work. Massaging the rich lather down his thighs. Leaning forward he let his cheek brush slightly against Sam’s cock with a smile. Teasing. His lips parted and he swiped his tongue across them.

When he had finished washing down Sam’s calves he returned to the other man’s previously neglected cock. Cupping Sam’s balls in one hand and lathering them with soap as he caressed them, his other hand circling around the thick hard member and stroking slowly. The soap making a perfect slick channel. 

* * *

Sam gave soft sounds of pleasure as the slave began washing him clean. He liked the feel of the man’s hands on him. They were almost…familiar, they way the man rubbed his shoulders and massaged his body.

He hissed in pleasure when Dean pressed his cheek over his cock then licked it. Running his hands through his slave’s hair he chuckled when the slave went back to washing his legs. So Dean liked to play. He would have to figure out a way to win Dean over. He wondered what the slave had been like before he was a slave. Was he happy? Wife and kids? Love his job? Or was he another miserable human just eking out a living, hating getting up every day to go to a job he despised. Fought with his wife or girlfriend, beat his kids. Humans were so…pathetic. Never happy with what they had. And now, they had nothing. Now they world belonged to the demons and the non-humans that had been the stuff of nightmares and fairy tales.

Sam tilted his head back as Dean ran his fingers gently over his balls and then began jacking him slowly.

“Perfect, Dean. Ungh…yes, perfect.” Looking down at Dean he smiled. He didn’t understand the deep desire in him to keep the slave, but it was there. He almost felt like he wanted to _protect_ the slave which was absurd. Slaves were to be used, abused, and then tossed away when they were no longer of any value. Maybe there was something bewitching about this slave, maybe that was why his father had kept the man around for so long. 

* * *

Sam’s pleased reactions were all he cared about. All he lived for. Sam’s wishes. Sam’s desires. Sam’s pleasure. In this moment in time it was his reason for living. Dean wanted so desperately to give Sam exactly what he wanted. If he failed… a displeased look or word from the other man would be all it took to crush him. To break him in a way that even years of torture had not been able to.

Dean leaned forward to press his lips against the other man’s stomach. His tongue darting out to trace the lines of muscles as he continued to stroke Sam’s cock and play with his balls. Already his lover was so hard. So hot. So ready.

When Sam’s breath started to hitch with pleasure Dean barely let the water rinse away some of the soapsuds from the other man’s flesh before he started to lick around the head of Sam’s cock. His tongue swirling around and teasing the sensitive slit while his fingers continued to glide slowly up and down the shaft.

He looked up at Sam, watching the other man’s every reaction through his eyelashes. Trying to determine exactly what Sam liked best. Dean took the head of his dick into his mouth, sucking and playing with his tip and the sensitive glands underneath with his tongue. Slowly he continued taking more and more of the other man into his mouth while his hand continued to work along Sam’s length. Dean could have taken Sam all at once, but he wanted to make it good, make it last, make it perfect for the other man.

All too soon he felt the head of Sam’s cock pressing against the back of his throat. Fuck, the other man was so big. He didn’t nearly have all of Sam in his mouth yet. But Dean knew how to relax his throat, control his gag reflex, and take Sam even deeper. He swallowed Sam down to the root, working his throat and tongue around his lover’s cock as he buried his nose in the soft hair at the base of the other man’s shaft. 

* * *

Every touch the slave gave him seemed precious, more precious than it should be, considering he was just a slave under the mental control of Sam's order. He had had many a slave to fuck, to control, to do anything to he wanted and none of them, _none_ seemed to hold a candle to the way this man was making him feel, even if it was against Dean's will.

As the man sucked Sam's cock slowly into his mouth, Sam forced himself to stay under control, not to thrust, to let the man work him as he wanted to. It was hard, but he did. Soon, he found his whole cock in the man's mouth and throat and groaned in pleasure.

"Oh, God, Dean, you're so perfect," he whispered. "I'll make every day pleasurable and heavenly for you. Anything you want, name it, and I'll get it for you." Dean swallowed around his cock and Sam's eyes nearly rolled back in his head. He couldn't hold back any more and started fucking the slave's mouth, fucking it hard, fucking it as hard as he wanted to fuck the man's ass.

Yes, he wanted to fuck the man, not just his mouth. "Stand up," Sam ordered, "and turn around. I want to be inside you when I come, I want to fill you, I want to hear you cry out your pleasure…dammit, you can't. You'll just have show me the pleasure I'm giving you since you're mute."

Sam started to just push inside the man's hole, but stopped. No. He promised pleasure. He slicked his spittle covered leaking cock with soap suds then used more suds to wipe along the crack of Dean's ass. He probed with his fingers, impatient to be inside him, but something making him stop and consider the slave. It was absurd…but he did it all the same, sinking a soapy finger into the man's ass, searching for his prostate and rubbing over it as his other hand dropped to the man's cock which he began to stroke.

"You like that?" Sam whispered into Dean's ear as he slid a second finger into Dean's hole, stretching and lubing it with soap.

* * *

Sam’s praise only made him want to please the young man more. Because that was his purpose. His only reason for existing. To make this man happy. When Sam finally started to fuck his mouth, Dean relaxed into it. Taking everything Sam gave him and loving every minute of it. No matter how rough with him Sam got, even if Sam bruised his throat with his hard thrusts, Dean loved it. He loved it because Sam loved it. He wanted it because Sam wanted it.

Then suddenly Sam was pulling out of his mouth and Dean was left lightheaded and gasping, and feeling suddenly so empty that he just wanted to cry. But he still obeyed, standing up and turning around as Sam instructed. When he realized what Sam wanted he almost swooned with happiness.

Yes…

Bracing his hands against the wall Dean tried to push back when he felt the head of Sam’s cock pressing against his hole, eager for the younger man to be inside of him. When Sam suddenly pulled back instead that empty feeling grew. No! He wanted Sam inside of him. Needed it. Because Sam wanted it he had to give it to him. He simply _had_ to!

He looked back at the younger man, his eyes begging, desperate. And then Sam’s fingers were inside of him and on his cock Dean’s eyes practically rolled back in his head in pleasure. His lips parted in a silent moan as he thrust back against the fingers invading him and into the hand stroking him. Impatient for more. 

* * *

"That's my sweet, sweet, baby," Sam murmured, loving how Dean was so needy for him, the way Dean was enjoying it. It made him…pleased…to know Dean was happy, even if it was an illusion of sorts. For the moment, it was completely real to Dean though and knowing how much Dean wanted and needed him sent fire coursing through his veins like he hadn't felt in a long, long time.

He stretched Dean a little more with his fingers, though the well-used slave was already fairly stretched and relaxed when he wasn't clenching hungrily around Sam's fingers.

"Are you ready for me, Dean?" He let his voice take on the commanding tone again. "I will be the best you've ever had. I will give you pleasure beyond your wildest dreams. Even after my commands have worn off, you will know this to be truth. You will remember that I was careful with you, considerate, and wanted to make you feel better than you've ever felt. When nightmares come when you close your eyes to sleep, you'll think of me and feel safe."

After giving those final commands Sam positioned himself at Dean's hole and pushed in even as Dean pushed back, burying his dick all the way in Dean's ass. "Ngh…Dean, sweet Dean."

Sam bit Dean's shoulder, then licked his way up to the side of Dean's neck where he bit and sucked, leaving a dark scarlet mark. He began to roll his hips first one way, then the other, punctuating the moves with short, sharp thrusts. His hands were all over Dean's chest, caressing, tweaking his nipples, stroking his cock.

Finally he began to set a rhythm, being sure to strike the slave's prostate with every thrust. The way Dean's pale water-droplet coated skin rippled with tension in the light made Sam's heart beat faster. He licked at the water, biting hard now and again, and sucking on Dean's flesh as he pounded into the man.

"When I come, you come," Sam hissed into his ear. "Come again and again and again. Remember, the best you've ever been fucked."

* * *

He obeyed because he had no choice. Sam’s words washed over him and he reacted instantly to their command. Sam’s power dug deeper into his mind leaving bloody gouges in his mind and soul. A part of him, buried deep, tried to struggle, tried to resist, but it was easily crushed. He was absolutely powerless against this attack, and his mind could only scream as his body gave Sam exactly what he wanted.

When Sam’s fingers finally withdrew from his hole Dean’s body trembled it was so eager and ready. He would have begged if he could. When he felt Sam’s cock against his entrance once more, when he finally felt Sam begin to push inside of him, he pushed back against the invasion. Greedy to take all of Sam.

This seemed to please his master and Dean nearly swooned with pleasure. Each brush of Sam’s lips, each caress of his fingers along his skin, each movement of the other man’s cock inside of him a gift. A gift to his master. Even the pleasure he felt. It was all for Sam.

It was almost too much, but even as he neared the peak of pleasure, his balls heavy and begging for release, he did not come. Sam’s wishes were clear. He was not to come until his master did. He would not displease his master by finding his pleasure before him. He would not. 

* * *

Sam pushed them both to the edge again and again. He was torturing himself as much as he was torturing Dean and he knew it. He was caught in a loop of pleasure and pain and it was delicious. A voice in the depths of his mind reminded him he had promised Dean pleasure, not torture. With a groan, he acknowledged that promise.

"Kiss me," he whispered and as soon as Dean twisted his head, Sam captured his mouth. He kissed Dean intensely and stopped the teasing pumping and stopping. He set a steady pace, increasing it slowly, carrying Dean right along with him.

Suddenly he was coming, filling Dean with hot streams of spunk as he shouted Dean's name. He felt Dean's own explosive release and stroked Dean's cock as Dean clenched and milked him. He'd wanted Dean to come multiple times and the slave didn't disappoint as he felt the man shudder again and again.

"That's it, baby, beautiful," Sam groaned in approval, his hips finally slowing. Resting in Dean, he kissed the slave's neck, sucking gently on it. "Perfect, Dean. You were perfect."

He stayed that way for awhile, reveling in the feel of being inside the slave, of having the slave's body up next to him, his hands roaming over the practically flawless skin. With a reluctant sigh, he pulled out his now limp cock, turning Dean to face him. He stroked the wet hair off Dean's forehead and studied the man's beautiful features. "You're special. I sense it. I taste it. You bring out a hunger in me that I haven't felt in…years."

Moving Dean under the water he did something he would have denied he'd ever do. He washed the slave clean of sweat and cum, then rinsed himself off a final time before shutting off the water.

* * *

Dean obeyed when Sam ordered him to kiss him. His eyes fluttering closed with pleasure and his tongue tangling with the younger man’s. Eager for his master’s taste, eager to swallow the younger man’s moans and sounds of pleasure Dean could no longer utter himself.

He obeyed and did not come no matter how intense the pleasure or how much his body begged for release. It was torture. Sweet torture. The way Sam worked him up so high, then stopped. Leaving him dangling on the cliffs edge by his fingertips. He wanted it to end, he wanted to come so badly, at the same time he never wanted it to end. He wanted to feel Sam inside him forever.

He obeyed when he finally felt Sam’s cock pulsing deep inside of him, his own cock releasing hard as he shuddered over and over in Sam’s arms. If he could have, he would have been screaming his master’s name in pleasure. His moans rivaling that of the best porn stars.

He savored Sam’s praise and even though he was happy he had pleased his master he mourned the loss of the younger man inside of him when Sam finally withdrew. He didn’t want it to end. He wanted to keep giving his master pleasure. It was his only purpose… the only reason he existed… the only time he felt pleasure or happiness…

Still breathing hard and shaking slightly from the pleasure his master had taken from his body, Dean’s eyes never left the younger man. Watching the younger man with an intensity that was almost frightening. He moved when Sam moved him. He remained still underneath the water while the other man’s hands roamed over him. Waiting for Sam’s next command.

He was a doll. A living, breathing, doll. He didn’t care. He wasn’t allowed to care. 

* * *

"Come on, out," Sam said, stepping out of the shower and offering Dean a hand. "See how fine it can be between us? See how I can make you feel? How I can treat you and give you pleasure." He gave Dean a light kiss. "Dry me off, then yourself."

Sam waited while Dean retrieved a folded thick towel and slowly and carefully dried off every inch of his skin. He watched as Dean then dried himself free of the water, admiring every movement and ripple of muscle. Once Dean was done, Sam led him out to the table where food was laid out for Sam. Dumping the toast off of a plate, Sam filled up the plate with part of his own breakfast.

"Here, eat your fill. If you're still hungry, just let me know," Sam said, then disappeared into the other room to dress. He'd had an interesting night with the frustrating slave, but a very good morning once he bent the slave to his will. If the slave had learned his lesson, then he would make sure the slave was kept comfortable. If the slave hadn't…then he would punish him, heal him, and simply bend him to his will again. The slave would learn soon enough that the King of Hell got what he wanted. And he wanted this slave to be his.

Dressed, he returned to the table and began eating breakfast. "Once you're done eating and I have left, you may dress." Studying Dean a moment he added, using his commanding tone, "You will not hurt yourself under any circumstances nor goad the guards into hurting you. You may sleep, read, play cards or games, entertain yourself as you wish. You will be brought a meal at dinnertime. I don't know when I will return."

* * *

Glad to have some kind of direction again, Dean eagerly went to fetch a towel and dried off his master when Sam told him to. He was slow and careful with Sam. Quicker with himself, not wanting to keep his master waiting.

When Sam beckoned him into the bedroom Dean followed like an eager puppy. Following to the table where food was laid out and then sitting where Sam instructed. When Sam told him to eat, Dean did so. Mechanically. Not really tasting any of it and not really caring. Eating his fill as his master instructed to ease the hunger pangs inside of him.

His eyes following Sam around the room everywhere the other man moved. When he realized that Sam was leaving, Dean’s expression fell into an almost stricken look, realizing this his master was now leaving him. But if his master wished him to remain here... he would obey...

Still his eyes followed the younger man to the door, and remained locked there for a long time even after Sam had left.

Then, all of a sudden, it was as though something broke inside of him. The claws that had been digging into his mind and soul ripped free leaving ugly gaping wounds in their place. Dean gasped as though he was getting his first taste of oxygen after nearly drowning to death. Then he began to shake.

He stared at his trembling hands as though they weren’t his own… because for a while there they hadn’t been. Bile rose in his throat as he squeezed his eyes tightly shut, his fingers curling into his hair and digging into his scalp as though he was trying to replace the claws in his mind.

The things Sam had forced him to do… the things the other man had forced him to feel… Dean had never felt more violated in his entire life. All the things other demons had done to him. All the things Alistair or Azazel had done… all of it paled in comparison to what Sam had done to him.

Dean begged for that dark place, that cold numb place he sometimes went to when the pain became too much. He begged to go there now. To never wake up from it again. But it wouldn’t come. No matter how much he wished for it, it wouldn’t come. And the memories would not leave him. The feeling of Sam’s hands on him, Sam inside him, wanting it, needing it… still wanting it even now that the compulsion was gone…

With a silent scream Dean struck out blindly. Sending the leftover food and plates to the floor once again. Shaking so hard he lost his balance he fell to the floor as well, revulsion making his stomach twist painfully and he violently threw up everything Sam had forced him to eat. Even once his stomach was completely empty painful dry heaves continued to rack his body.

He wasn’t sure how long it lasted, but even when his stomach stopped trying to escape through his mouth, his body continued to tremble violently. He almost didn’t realize it was because he was sobbing uncontrollably. Dean wrapped his arms tightly around himself and rocked back and forth on the floor. But it brought him no comfort. Nothing would ever again.

No more… he couldn’t… he wouldn’t let Sam do that to him again. Never again. Even as he made up his mind he felt the compulsion Sam had left there trying to dissuade him for it. For a long time Dean laid there, fighting against it, and finally forcing his limbs to move. Without Sam there he could fight it. He did fight it. He stood on shaking legs and slowly walked back into the bathroom. Back where it had happened. Fitting perhaps.

He turned to the huge mirror set over the sink and stared at his reflection. Staring at the face he hated even more than he hated Sam’s. This face is what had caught Sam’s attention. This “pretty” face. With a snarl Dean punched his fist through the mirror, sending a spider web of cracks through the perfect glass and shards of glass into his knuckles. Blood welled up and the pain made it easier to fight Sam’s commands.

Dean kept punching the glass over and over. He punched it until the pain was nearly blinding. Until he could no longer recognize his own face in what was left of the mirror. Until both his hands were a shredded mess. Then, grabbing a large shard left inside the mirror frame he used it like a knife to slice deep cuts into his own face. Trying to undo all the work Sam had put into him. If he weren’t so pretty to look at, maybe Sam wouldn’t want him anymore. Maybe Sam would let him go.

His blood was everywhere, staining the expensive marble a deep red, and he was already beginning to feel light headed, from shock most likely. But that didn’t stop Dean from making two final cuts, one to the inside of each arm from elbow to wrist. The glass slipped from his numb fingers as he fell. He watched in almost fascination as the red puddle grew beneath him, spreading further and further away. Finally the cold darkness he longed for so much reached up to claim him. 

* * *

Sam had just barely started reviewing battle reports when one his private guards made his presence known. After giving a few orders, he waved the demon forward and listened as it whispered in his ear.

Sam's face twisted in fury and the table in front of him cracked in two, collapsing. Other things in the room shattered and snapped. He shoved demons and attendants out of his way as he strode quickly to his room. He saw the shambles of the breakfast meal, smelled the vomit and then walked into the bathroom.

A reaper was nearby, patiently waiting, for Dean to draw his last shallow breaths of life.

"Get the fuck out of here! He's not yours! He's _mine!_ " Sam snarled at the reaper. Reaching down, he healed the wounds to Dean's arms that were draining the slave of life. He poured enough power into the slave, healing him until he saw the reaper give a slight nod of acceptance and fade away.

Turning to his guard he snapped, "Have that mess in the other room cleaned up. Have my mirror replaced and the bathroom pristine by the time I return. Have a rack brought in with all the tools and set it up in the torture chamber and put this fool on it. Bring one of the doctors Father keeps on hand, have the doctor find someone of my slave's bloodtype, and have the doctor give this slave a transfusion once he wakes up. If the donor survives, chain it up in the room. And have a few more ready. The slave can watch his idiocy cause the death, one after another, of other human slaves. Make sure he eats and drinks sometime today, if you fucking have to shove it down his throat. Make sure the water is clean and the food has some protein."

Sam glared at the mangled body lying at his feet. "I offer him the fucking world and this is what he does." Looking up, he saw his guard was still there. "What are you fucking waiting on?"

The demon saluted and rushed off to see Sam's will be done. Sam dragged the slave by one arm into the stone room within his quarters where he had once tortured slaves or rebels. He hadn't used it in awhile. He hadn't felt the need to and his Father had felt he had learned the way of torture well enough.

Dean would discover new levels of pain. No, not Dean. Never Dean again. _Pet._ He would always be _Pet_ from now on, unless he restored himself to Sam's good graces. And he would have to work very, very hard for that.

Sam would find out what motivated this man because obviously Sam forcing his will on Dean was not enough, not unless he dragged the slave around like a puppy, and that wasn't what he wanted from this man. No, he would break this man to his will and desires, he would focus on this man nearly to the exclusion of any other slave.

* * *

The cold splash of water hitting him in the face slowly roused Dean unwillingly from his death like slumber. Coughing weakly and sputtering his eyelids slowly dragged open, the images that swam before him blurred at best. He didn’t recognize the room he was in, but that didn’t mean he didn’t know where he was. He’d woken up this way far too often in the last five years of his so-called life not to know exactly where he was and what was about to happen.

“Looks like sleeping beauty is finally awake.” Dean heard the hateful mocking voice quickly followed by another bucket of ice cold water slapping him in the face. The water so cold it practically burned and he coughed weakly. His body automatically trying to expel the small amount of water that had gotten into his lungs, even though Dean would have rather drowned. The demons merely laughed as he sputtered.

His arms and legs chained down by heavy iron, spreading him wide over the wooden rack. Dean looked down at himself. Rivulets of bright red bled down his skin, the water barely making a trail through the thick layer of blood coating him. Had they already been at this for a while? Most of his skin felt… whole… at the moment. No reason for there to be so much blood.

His fingers flexed involuntarily and Dean grit his teeth at the fiery pain that shot through the shredded mess his hands were. But the pain brought back the memories. The pieces falling together slowly like the shattered glass that had done the damage. The damage he’d caused to himself.

Sam… what his brother… no, not his brother, never his brother again… had done to him. Sam violating him. Taking away the last bit of freedom he had, not even his mind was his own. His soul still felt shredded raw and despair was all he felt right now. Not anger, not humiliation, even the pain was nothing compared to it. His one chance to escape… his only chance… and he’d failed that as well. He couldn’t even die right.

Now that he was awake, the demons started to have their fun. For a few hours they tried to get him to eat, and having literally nothing left to live for, Dean fought their efforts with every breath he had. Spitting out or vomiting whatever food they managed to shove down his throat. The beating they gave him after was one of the worst he’d received in a long time, but he didn’t care. Every time he lost consciousness they woke him up again and started over.

At one point they changed tactics and started torturing and killing some other slaves in the room that Dean hadn’t noticed before. However watching the demons slit the throats of one slave after another Dean didn’t feel pity for them. They were the lucky ones. Death was a release. A mercy. One he would never know.

Pretty soon he was spitting and throwing up blood along with whatever food they tried to get him to eat. His insides so damaged from the beating by this point his stomach probably wouldn’t have held down anything even if he wanted it too. Barely able to remain conscious no matter how many times they tried to wake him up, the demons finally left him alone. Defeated. Was it some kind of twisted victory? Was that fear in their eyes? He didn’t care. 

* * *

Sam stared at the doctor. "Morons. I have fucking morons for guards," he muttered.

The slave had lost enough blood to almost kill him and what do the guards do? Beat him. He told them to bring in slaves of Dean's blood type so the slaves would die as they gave Dean their blood. Instead the demons just brought in some random slaves and killed them in front of Dean. They didn't get Dean to eat or drink, and now he was worse off and back to being at risk of dying. To just make the day perfect, the doctor hadn't readily even found any slaves with Dean's blood type. Ironically, Sam was Dean's blood type. Sam had a choice of healing him, but with all the blood loss, it would be hard on both of them, or giving him some of his own blood and then healing him.

Those moron guards could replace the blood Sam was going to have to give up because they were idiots.

He'd had it. He was going to pick his own guards. Guards that were loyal to him, had something of a brain, and followed orders.

He knew his Father would never approve of Sam giving some of his own blood to a slave, but what choice did he have? The demonic blood could have unforeseen side-effects. He thought long and hard. If it did have side effects, then he could always kill the slave, he supposed. If he didn't do something, the slave was going to die anyhow.

"Very well. Take what blood you need for him. And doctor," Sam said and waited for the doctor to look at him, "if even a whisper of this gets out, I will personally tend to your torture and death myself. Do I make myself clear?"

The doctor nodded. He was very accustomed to keeping secrets. He inserted a needle and drew as much blood as he dared, then took it in to the slave and inserted a needle in Dean's arm, letting the blood slowly enter the man's body. Sam watched from the doorway and once the doctor was done, Sam came and stood beside Dean. He looked at the doctor. "Find slaves of his blood type. Discreetly. But find them. Keep me informed of your progress. My father is not to know of any of this."

The doctor nodded and left.

Sam laid his hand on Dean's chest and focused on healing the slave as much as he could, He could pretty the man up later. For now, he was concerned with internal injuries. Once he had healed as much as he could without taking in more blood, he stroked Dean's newly scarred face.

"I don't understand you, Pet. I offered you a sliver of paradise. All I asked in return was you to treat me with respect and to make love to me. I had to force you to show you how good it could be. I even was willing to call you by your name, see you were well fed, entertained, and I would have given you other presents. All you would have had to do was ask. If you'd wanted some slaves spared, I could have done that, within reason. If you'd wanted to walk on the surface, gone to a beach, to a lake, to woods, I would have taken you. Any food, any present, yours. Instead, you make me _push_ you. Then when I give you freedom to roam about my private quarters, you try to kill yourself. Maybe…maybe you just don't know how to live without pain anymore."

Sam picked up tool for torture. "Since you can't seem to accept a kind master, I will give you what you are familiar with. And you will give me everything I want. Once you have learned your place, learned I am not to be trifled with, I may start returning to you some freedoms, but know this Pet. I will never give you the opportunity to attempt to take your life again. Your life, your _soul_ is mine. With the abilities I've inherited from Father, I can keep you alive, even young, indefinitely." He gripped Dean's jaw and turned Dean to look at him. "In case you don't get it, that means _forever_. You are mine. For eternity." 

* * *

Dean wasn’t sure if he’d ever felt more cold in his life. The chill reached deep into him. Deeper than his muscles. Down into his very bones. He couldn’t stop trembling. His breath rattled in his lungs wetly with every weak inhale or exhale. He slipped in and out of consciousness, never really sure which was which. Did it really matter? Both his dreams and his reality were nightmares. Nightmares he would never wake from. Never…

_I’m sorry, Dean…_

He must be dreaming again. Or hallucinating. What was the difference? Dean coughed weakly, tasting the familiar flow of copper in his mouth as his airway cleared just a little. The pain that accompanied it was intense, but ignored. It was proof he was awake however. For the time being. Guess the voices he’d heard but couldn’t understand were real too. Not that he really cared what they had to say anyway. Probably the demons deciding what they were going to do with him next. Maybe he could black out again before they started.

_I’m so sorry…_

“No you’re not…” Dean whispered the words, or at least he tried to. No actual sound left his lips but the effect was the same. The voice went silent.

It was then he felt the palm against his chest, warmth flowing from it hotter than just a mere touch should be. Heat pushing into him and by now Dean knew what it meant even half conscious. Sam was back. Sam was trying to heal him again. The pain lessened… for the time being and Dean was pushed closer towards consciousness against his will. Always against his will.

However Dean didn’t open his eyes or even acknowledge Sam when the other man started speaking to him. He didn’t give a damn what Sam had to say. He didn’t acknowledge Sam until the other man finally gripped his jaw hard and forced him to look at him. At that point Dean opened his eyes, and they held absolutely no emotion. Sam probably wasn’t expecting an answer, or if he was, Sam was expecting him to grovel and beg. Instead Dean spat blood into his face and mouthed one word very clearly.

“Never.”

* * *

The blood splattering across his face was unexpected as was Dean's response. But he had gotten a response, even if the slave's eyes hid what he felt. Sam back-fisted him.

"Oh, yes, Pet. I swear, you'll be mine."

The man couldn't afford to lose a lot of blood until the doctor found donors for him, so Sam would have to be careful. He started slowly and simply, using the rod he held and began breaking each of Dean's fingers with it. The hands were already a mess of wounds, though the wounds no longer bled. Next Sam moved up to Dean's ribs. He didn't have to break the rib to make it painful for the slave to breathe, he only had to crack a few. With an expert touch, the rod smacked into the slave's ribs with just enough force to crack them without actually breaking them.

"Such a pity you can't scream," Sam mused, wondering why his father had muted the man. With a perfect touch, he broke Dean's nose, a trickle of blood beginning to drip. Setting down the rod, Sam picked up a red hot blade and used it to begin carving symbols into Dean's chest. The symbols would keep Dean hidden from the lower level demons and alert Sam if anyone dared touch his slave but him. He inhaled the scent of burnt flesh, then leaned in and ravaged Dean's mouth, gripping Dean's jaw firmly so the man couldn't bite him.

Stepping behind Dean, Sam continued slowly carving into his slave, the wounds cauterized as soon as they were made. His fingers traced over what had been all but flawless skin. "And I had worked so hard to make your skin perfect. A shame. But once I break you, I can fix it again.

Leaning in close, laying the hot blade against Dean's back, he whispered into Dean's ear. "I'll take you every day and every night. You won't feel right unless I've been inside you that day. Unless I've thrust my cock so deep inside you, you think you're going to split in two."

He bit Dean's ear hard enough to draw blood, then set the blade aside and opened his pants. He jacked himself hard and with little preamble shoved his cock inside Dean, thrusting hard, wasting no time in bringing himself off. Once he'd come and his spunk dripped from Dean's ass, he zipped up his pants and left, without saying another word to the slave. 

* * *

The fist cracked his jaw and stunned the bound man, but it was nothing Dean wasn’t used to. He didn’t meet Sam’s eyes anymore after that. Not willing to give the sadistic bastard the satisfaction of seeing the pain he caused.

Of course he couldn’t hold back forever. After his fourth finger was broken for the hundredth time he couldn’t stop from gritting his jaw, trying to hold back the screams even though they were silent. After his ribs were broken he couldn’t stop the harsh breaths that escaped through his clenched teeth. After the brand began cutting and burning into his flesh he couldn’t hold back the screams anymore. Screaming one word over and over.

Never.

He couldn’t hear it. Sam couldn’t hear it. But Dean repeated it over and over regardless. Dean had nothing else left. Not even the memory of a brother he would have died for. Every hurt, every humiliation, Sam inflicted upon him making Dean forget the man Sam had once been a little more. All he had left was this defiance. Nothing but the refusal to give Sam what he wanted. He was denied freedom. Denied death. He would deny Sam until it killed him or drove him mad.

Never… Never…

Dean repeated the word over and over in his mind even as Sam was fucking him bloody. As the pain increased the familiar numb feeling at the edge of his mind began to close in around him. When it had first happened years ago it had terrified him. Now he welcomed it. Welcomed the cold oblivion it offered away from the torment his life had become. Sometimes weeks would pass before he’d “wake up” again. He’d begun to hope he would never wake up from it. Maybe now… now he would get that wish.

Never…

Dean mumbled the word one last time, even though Sam was already gone, as he felt himself slip away. 

* * *

Sam hunted down his two idiot guards, killed them himself and took all the blood he needed or wanted. They were lower demons, their blood wasn't particularly great, but it was blood. He spent some time scouring the ranks and finally selected two new guards that seemed to have something of a brain in their meatsuit skulls. He directed them to tend to his slave, see that he ate and drank and that he suffered no injuries or sexual attentions from anyone but him. Only the doctor was allowed in to see the slave.

That done, he went to the war room and met up with Ruby. The rebels had apparently been badly demoralized by Sam's victory over Raphael. The group had splintered and gone into hiding. There were some skirmishes going on elsewhere in the world and Sam decided it would be a good thing to make a few appearances it what had once been Europe and China and the Middle East. He gathered his prime army of demons and set forth to wreak some havoc and put some humans back in line.

By the time Sam returned, he was tired, and coated in blood. The foolish humans thought he could be so easily killed. He was ankle deep in blood by midday, but new fear had been instilled in many groups of humans bent on fighting the inevitable. If the humans simply accepted that they had had their time and that demons now ruled, it would be easier on all. Demons liked their pleasures as well as the next, carnal pleasures of food and sex and drink. They liked electricity and heat or air-conditioning, so keeping the world running was of interest to them. If the humans obeyed, many could go on living simple lives not so different that what they'd had. Where the humans rebelled, there was chaos and devastation, lack of food and power and clean water. And dead and rotting bodies. Plenty of those.

After Sam showered, he went in to check on his slave who was still on the rack. His guards informed him they'd managed to get some water and some soup down the slave. With a nod of approval he waved the guards out.

"I've had quite a day, Pet. Are you ready for some quality time with me?" 

* * *

_Dean stood in the middle of their front yard and shielded his eyes from the midday sun. It was almost unbearably hot. His skin damp with perspiration and a light sunburn already forming on his bare shoulders. The humidity made it a little hard to breathe, and distant objects shimmered with heat distortion making them almost unrecognizable._

_Just their luck they get stuck in Georgia in the middle of summer. Some days Dean wished for school to hurry up and start just so he could enjoy the air-conditioned classrooms. The old run down house they were squatting in didn't have anything in the way of AC or even power. There was actually an old fashioned well pump where they had to get their water from and they cooked what little food they had over a small camping stove. In other words, it sucked big time._

_Thankfully Dad had called a few days ago and said he should be back soon and maybe they could get out of the dump sooner rather than later. But, it wasn't all bad. Despite the leaking roof and care that needed to be taken walking on the deck so you didn't fall through it, there were up sides. Like the large lake behind the house, complete with a pier._

_He and Sam had taken full advantage of swimming in the cool, surprisingly clear, water during the hottest part of the days. Despite how hot it was, no one else visited the lake. It was like it had been forgotten, he and Sam had it all to themselves, like they owned it. Today, they'd decided to try their hand at fishing._

_They'd made a trip to the local town and bough some crappy poles with what little cash they had left. Sam was enthusiastically digging in the shade of a large tree trying to unearth some worms. A task probably easier to do at night, but they hadn't really thought that far ahead in their plans._

_Sam's excited shout drew Dean's attention. The look on his brother's mud stained face as he pulled a six-inch night crawler out of the ground and held it up triumphantly made Dean laugh. It felt like such a long time since he laughed, since he was happy. Really happy. He didn't care about the heat, or the mosquitoes, or the leaking roof or lack of air conditioning. He had what mattered. His brother._

_Dean took a step towards the younger boy, figuring he should help him find some more worms if they ever wanted to get any fishing done today. He stopped however when something caught his attention from the corner of his eye. Dean turned his head, staring off into the distance. He thought he… heard something. The distortions of shapes caused by the heat seemed even stranger somehow. Darker…_

_"Dean! What are you waiting for!" Sam's shout pulled his attention back to his brother. Somehow Sam had managed to fill up the old tin can with worms and now had the poles in his hand, waiting for him. What was he waiting for? Nothing important. Grinning back at the younger boy Dean raced his brother to the lake laughing the entire way._

* * *

The slave didn't even seem to register his presence, though the man's eyes were half-open.

Sam punched the slave in the gut, then across the face. "You will acknowledge my presence!" Sam yelled at him.

The man's face didn't change. The man seemed comatose. Sam picked up a knife and drove it through the man's shoulder. Nothing. Not even a flinch. He'd seen it before. Rarely, but he had seen it. Human minds shutting down, totally pulling back from reality. Same growled in frustration. Not this human, not now.

He pushed with his mind, fully prepared to enter the man's mind and bring his consciousness out to play…only he couldn't get in.

…His blood. His blood had protected the man from Sam's psychic abilities. There would be no more ordering the slave to do what he wanted, no more invading his dreams, not even a hope at reading the man's mind.

That fucking doctor was dead.

Sam took his frustration out on the slave, beating him, breaking bones, carving skin, using his powers to keep the man from bleeding out. Nothing effected the man. Nothing at all.

It may have been days since he'd slept but now, now he was too fucking pissed to eat or sleep. He needed to hear screams, he needed to fuck something. Then he would return and sleep.

But first, he pulled the slave off the rack and tossed him in a corner, shackling his wrists and covering him with a blanket. He would find a way to get past the walls the man built. Oh yes, he would find a way.

As he stormed out of his room, he momentarily wondered at the sudden craving he had for fish. Bass, specifically.

* * *

_Dean sat cross-legged on the dry prickly grass, carefully wiping the blood and fish guts off of his knife. The grass itched wherever his skin was unprotected by the shorts he'd made cutting off the legs of one of his older pair of jeans but it was easy enough to ignore. The sun had finally set below the horizon, yet there was still enough light left that not too many stars were out yet. It was cooler now, though not by much, and still pretty humid. It was a lot cooler out here than inside the house however and that's why he and Sam decided to brave the mosquitoes and build a fire outside to cook their fish on._

_Honestly he' been surprised they caught anything. Maybe the fish were just desperate? But they had and tired of canned Spam and beans he and Sam had decided to try and eat their catch. He didn't know the first thing about cleaning a fish but he figured he managed fairly well. The cooking fish smelled… well, rather gross. That wouldn't stop him from eating it though. At least, he'd eat Sam's fish. The younger boy had been so damned proud when he caught it._

_Dean looked over at his brother. The younger boy crouched in front of the fire poking the glowing embers with a stick and watching the fish roast on spits almost obsessively. A can of beans was set cooking on their little camping stove in an old beat up pan for a 'side dish' or backup if the fish burned or was too gross to eat._

_Finished cleaning off his knife Dean set it aside and leaned back on his arms, staring up at the darkening sky and the stars. Their number seeming to double every minute as it got darker as he watched. The sound of crickets and tree frogs was a loud chorus that only seemed to emphasize how alone the two of them were right now. Like no one else existed outside of their little world here and that was surprisingly ok to Dean. He found himself hoping that Dad got delayed a few more days and that they didn't have to leave this place for a while yet._

_Despite the run down house, mosquitoes, crappy camping stove, no running water unless you counted the leaking roof, and having to sleep in sleeping bags on the bare musty floors… he liked it here. He didn't want to leave._

_Something soft hitting him in the head pulled him out of his thoughts and he looked down at the bag of marshmallows that Sam had thrown at him. How the hell had Sam managed to smuggle marshmallows here right under his nose? His surprised eyes found his brother's in the growing gloom, and the younger boy's eyes were dancing with mirth. Grinning back at Sam, Dean opened the bag and popped one of the fluffy marshmallows into his mouth right away._

_Sam held out his, now glowing, pointy stick to him and for a moment Dean shrank back from it. Fearful of the red-hot end and the air took on the distinct smell of burning flesh. Human flesh._

_"Dean?" Sam's voice was cautious and a little worried, and Dean shook himself. The night sounds of crickets and frogs returned from where they'd faded. The pop and crackle of the burning wood and smell cooking fish was once more familiar and comforting. Dean stuck a marshmallow on the end of Sam's stick, then hunted around for one of his own. Even if the fish was kind of gross once it was done cooking, the sticky gooey roasted marshmallows would more than make up for it._

* * *

Sam collapsed into bed, not caring he was covered in the blood of those he'd tortured or bits of his own cum from those he'd fucked bloody. His pet hadn't moved from where he'd left him shackled and he was pissed. Still pissed as hell. But he was also tired beyond measure.

He was asleep almost before he hit the pillow.

*

_It was night time and there was a small camp fire going. He stood back in the shadows, watching as a young Dean and very young Sam roasted fish and cooked beans and ate gooey marshmallows. He just stood, leaning against the tree and watched, smiling sometimes at the banter between the two boys._

_He jumped when the hand came down on his shoulder._

_"You shouldn't be here, Sammy. We made a deal."_

_"No, I made a mistake," Sam growled at the yellow-eyed demon. It wasn't really Azazel, it was just a mind-shadow of him, part of the guards that kept him locked away from interacting with the world._

_The demon laughed. "I gave you exactly what you asked for Sammy. Dean's life."_

_"You were supposed to let him go," Sam snapped._

_"Ah-ah-ah," Azazel tsked. "I keep my deals and that wasn't what you said. 'Stop it! Stop it! I'll do it! Whatever you want from me, just don't kill him.'" Azazel mimicked. "That, Sammy, was the deal you made in haste. Whatever I want from you and I let him live. He's still alive. And you have become my puppet, my heir, my good son who I've fucked almost as often as I've fucked that sweet brother of yours. You're a good student, Sammy."_

_"Yeah," Sam said darkly. "Just you remember that. I've always been a good student. A very good student. And I spent so many years feeling powerless, thrust into a life I didn't want, one where I had no say, got to make no choices. And you, the real you, you're good at manipulating, but 'Sam' is getting tired of playing second string." He gave the demon a smirk. "I wonder what he might do when he's finally had enough."_

_The yellow-eyed demon gave a soft growl as he faded away and Sam returned his attention to Dean and his younger self. "I'm sorry Dean. I'm so sorry. I fucked up. I fucked everything up. And there's nothing I can do to fix it. I'm sorry…"_

* * *

The first thing he became aware of was the cold. Intense, biting, cold. His body trembled uncontrollably even underneath the light blanket that had been draped over him. The shaking rattling the chains around his wrists and making every one of his hurts reveal themselves. Flesh that hadn’t been healed pulled, reopening, and bleeding anew. Bones that had been broken shifting underneath his muscles in places they shouldn’t. He coughed weakly, his lungs rattling with fluid, tasting blood in his mouth.

Always the same… always… The numbness that took over his mind began to fade away making everything, sight, sound, smell, and touch more intense for a few moments. The darkness drew back revealing where he was. The dream ended and the living nightmare began anew.

Dean closed his eyes and wept. He didn’t care. No one was around at the moment to see his weakness, and he honestly didn’t care if anyone did. Why couldn’t he stay in that place? He wanted so badly to stay there. He had no idea how much time had passed, but it didn’t really matter. He always found himself back here when all he wanted was to fade away forever and die in peace.

Splintered memories began clicking into place. Reminding him that even though it was the same things had changed now. It wasn’t Azazel, or Alistair, or some random demons who’d done this to him. Sam… it was Sam. His brother…

The memory of his young brother’s smiling face covered in melted marshmallows was already fading away back into the dark. Nothing more than a memory growing more distant by the second. No matter how hard he tried to hold onto it, it slipped through his fingers like sand.

Sam was not that Sam. Sam was not his brother anymore. Sam didn’t remember him. All that was left was a monster. Dean had killed monsters once. Once, he’d been good at it. That man didn’t exist anymore either. Only a pet remained. 

* * *

Sam returned to his quarters, pleased, very pleased, with how the past few days had gone. New pockets of resistance had been located and it hadn't taken long, hadn't taken that many deaths, before their will crumbled and they swore their fealty to him. Demons had been placed among them and a nice selection of fresh meat had been collected. The mothers and children he had spared and some of the husbands or lovers who seemed willing to abide by Sam's rules. They were relocated to a nearby city where demons made up the greater population. The new slaves were put to work, helping to keep the city running and in return were given food and homes to live in. He marked a random handful off limits to the lascivious demons and promised more would be granted protection if they did as they were told. The demons were glad for the new meat, glad for the new servants, and he was certain the demons were pleased with his rulings. It was a win-win scenario. At least for some of the humans.

He walked into the torture chamber and saw his slave trembling and did he smell pain? Fear? Sadness? His slave was no longer in his own little world, but back in Sam's. Sam grinned. Yes, that would make the day truly fine.

"Hello, Pet, welcome back to your private little piece of hell." Sam knelt down by him and placing his hand on his chest poured healing into him. He didn't want the man to die, so the bloody wounds closed over and he cleared his lungs of fluid and damage. He repaired some of the more painful of the broken bones. "There, now that's better, I'm sure. Come, to your feet. You need to eat. I've had a good couple days and perhaps you've had time to consider your situation?"

Sam helped the slave to his feet and led him out into the warmth of his quarters. "You've a few very simple choices, Pet. You may sit like a civilized man and eat a bit of decent food, join me in the shower, then join me in my bed. Or you may return to the rack. What is your choice. Will it be Pet," he motioned to the rack, "where my guards will see that you eat a maggot filled meal, and I torture you and fuck you, or will it be Dean?" He motioned to his luxurious quarters, "where you are given good food, a hot shower, and a comfortable bed with a lover?" 

* * *

He wasn’t alone for very long, much to Dean’s dismay, though at least it was long enough for the tears to have stopped and already dried on his face. He might not have much in the way of self respect left, but anything he could do to deny the sadistic bastard pleasure was a small victory. He wouldn’t let Sam see just how much he was hurting him. Breaking him. He barely acknowledged the younger man’s presence even though Sam’s mocking voice ignited that spark of now familiar anger burning just below the despair he felt. Slowly pushing its way to the surface.

Sam’s hand against his bare flesh made his skin crawl as it always did. The feeling of warmth and Sam’s power healing him was just as unwelcome by this point. He’d really had no intention of getting up when Sam told him to, but the other man didn’t give him much choice. Yanking him to his feet and all but dragging him into the other room.

Once there, Sam listed off his ‘options’ and Dean actually snarled at the word ‘lover’. He would rather rot in hell for a thousand years. He gave Sam his answer all right. In the form of a right hook across his jaw. 

* * *

Sam staggered from the blow then spun on the rebellious slave and with a flick of his hand, flung the man into the wall and held him there.

"Very well, Pet," Sam said as he wiped away the blood from the corner of his mouth. Still holding Dean against the wall he used his mind and sent a spike through one shoulder of the slave and then through the other, the spikes burying deeply into the wall. He left Dean to hang there, facing the wall, while he had the guards bring him his dinner.

With dinner, he ordered a woman slave be brought to him as well as a censer filled with hot coals and long nails. He sat on the chaise lounge, having the woman feed him as he caressed her and every so often used his mind to shoot a glowing nail from the coals into Dean's back, smiling as he heard each nail hiss as it entered the flesh. After the meal he made love to the woman, wanting to hear groans of pleasure rather than sobs.

Once the empty food plates were cleared away and the woman gone, Sam slowly approached Dean.

"Good to see you're still conscious. I wanted you awake for this."

Licking away some of the trickles of blood from Dean's wounds, he caressed Dean's body, running his fingers over the new scars he'd left. When he'd gotten himself aroused again, He pulled the spikes from Dean's shoulders and dropped him down low enough so he could fuck him, still holding him against the wall though.

"I'll break you, slave, I swear it," Sam hissed in his ear, then shoved his cock inside him. "If you won't be mine willingly, then I'll shatter your soul and you'll mewl at my feet, doing whatever I command." 

* * *

Seeing Sam’s blood for the brief moment before the younger man was satisfying, even if it was insignificant. The only thing that mattered to Dean right now however was not giving the other man what he wanted. He had nothing else left, so any rebellion, no matter how small, was a victory. Even if it meant agony for himself afterwards, he didn’t care. He was more than used to agony by now. Sam’s threats of torture meant nothing.

Even as he screamed silently through clenched teeth as the metal spikes pinned him to the wall like a fucking insect he did not feel a shred of regret for his ‘choice’. He felt no regret even as the smell of his own burning flesh made his stomach turn as it always did. Even as he felt close to passing out every time another red hot nail entered his skin and buried into his muscles.

If Sam’s little pornographic display with the slave woman was meant to ‘entice’ him, then Sam was an idiot. It did nothing but sicken him. But at least pinned facing the wall like he was he didn’t have to actually watch it.

Dean knew that it was probably too much to hope that Sam would leave him alone after he was done with his fun. He was right. At this point the spikes being yanked out of his flesh probably hurt worse than when they’d gone in. The feeling of Sam’s cock forcing its way inside of him was almost trivial at this point. He didn’t even flinch in pain at the brutality of it, nor did he really care about the feeling of blood dripping down his legs.

But when the sadistic bastard leaned in close to whisper in his ear, it was what Dean had been waiting for. Dean was not nearly as close to unconsciousness as Sam might think and without warning he brought his head back hard and fast. The back of his skull cracking into Sam’s face with enough force that it almost made Dean black out. He’d almost surely broke Sam’s nose again, something he seemed to be making a habit of. If he was lucky he’d even fractured the younger man’s jaw and knocked out some teeth while he was at it.

The thought made Dean smile. 

* * *

Sam was anything but prepared for the sudden blow from the slave's head and fell back, his cock slipping free of the man, though he still mentally kept the man against the wall.

"Sonuvabitch!" he growled. His nose was broken yet again and blood poured from it.

He had always considered himself reasonably patient when he wanted to be. He wanted to be patient with this slave, he really did, but the man's sheer audacity made him want to peel back skin from muscle and muscle from bone. If the man weren't immune to his commands thanks to that now very dead doctor, Dean would be groveling at his feet.

He could see the smile on the slave's face and spun the man around, slamming his back against the wall.

"Is this what you want, to see me bleed? To see me in pain?" Sam snarled at him. "Do you think this trivial pain is anything? Father has taught me well how to endure pain. This, I'm certain you will enjoy, then."

Sam concentrated and though he only generated an illusion, his mind remembered each lash and every burn and cut his body had suffered. His body was covered with scars, head to foot, hardly a bit of skin untouched. "Imagine my screams, imagine my blood as it ran in sheets down my skin as Father taught me how to endure. I can lead an army with gunshot wounds or knife wounds, practically anything, and it will not slow me down, it will not stop me from subjugating all humans, until all bow down and acknowledge me as their king.

"Many demons were loathe to follow the halfbreed at first, but I proved myself to them." Sam picked up a knife and ran it along his own arm, his eyes cold steel as the blood ran from the cut he made. He cupped his hand and gathered some of his blood in it.

"Since you like seeing my blood," Sam stepped up to Dean and made sure he had the man frozen with his mind, then gripped his jaw, opening Dean's mouth. He poured the palmful of blood into it. "There, now you can taste it as well as see it. The blood of a king. The blood of your master."

Backfisting Dean he hissed. "You will be put back on the rack until you learn some manners."

* * *

Dean hadn't expected Sam to suddenly flip him around and slam him back against the wall. The force driving the nails in his flesh even deeper into his muscles and nearly making him pass out with pain.

It took him a few minutes to realize that the other man was speaking to him. It took him even more to realize what Sam was saying, what Sam was showing him, but even then he still didn't understand _why_. Did the sick fuck really think telling him this, showing him this, would make him feel _pity_ for Sam? After the way Sam had tortured him, forced his will on him, raped him, all the pain Sam had caused him again and again… body and soul…

Maybe once seeing Sam like that, hearing the pain his brother had gone through, would have horrified Dean. Made him cry, scream, and rip the guts out of anything that would dare hurt his brother even a fraction of what he was seeing. But this man wasn't his brother. Not anymore. Sam was no better than a demon. No, he was even worse than a demon. Worse than Azazel and Alistair put together. After everything that Sam had done, not only to him but the whole fucking world, as much as he hated himself for thinking it, Sam had gotten what he fucking deserved.

And so had Dean… for letting Sam become this.

No, he did not enjoy seeing the other man like this, but he didn't care either.

Sometimes he still lied to himself. But he couldn't let himself care even if he wanted to. Dean met Sam's stare unflinching, his own expression just as cold and hard. He tried to struggle even as he felt Sam's power wrapping around him more firmly, leaving him no choice but to gag on the blood the other man forced into his mouth.

The punch to his face afterwards had him seeing stars and he was sure some of the blood in his mouth wasn't just Sam's. However it wasn't enough to knock him out, not yet. Dean slowly lifted his head and spat the blood back at Sam with a snarl.

_Never._ He mouthed the word despite the pain in his face and jaw. He wouldn't be surprised if Sam had dislocated it again, not that it really mattered. He didn't care. The more Sam hurt him the quicker Dean would 'go away' again.

Dean had been taught to endure too. He was sure one of them would break before this was over. Either Sam would get fed up with him and kill him, or his own mind would shatter, but he would never give this bastard what he wanted. He wasn't going to become this man's pet. He would die first.

* * *

Sam expected the blood to be spit in his face and Dean didn't disappoint. A cold hard laugh erupted from him. "I like a good challenge, Pet. We'll see just how long your 'never' is."

Turning from Dean, Sam let the illusion of his scarred body fade away and healed his arm and nose. Shouting, he called for his guards. When they arrived he waved at Dean. "Put him back on the rack. Pull the nails out his back once you do, then give him a wash down _without_ causing any more damage, then leave. Quietly."

As the guards dragged Dean into the other room, Sam stepped into the shower to quickly rinse off. _Never._ The man was stubborn. Damned stubborn. Part of him was certain he'd break the slave but a faint voice in the back of his mind laughed and mocked him. _You don't know the meaning of stubborn,_ it taunted. _He'll never break._

Sam frowned at the voice, wondering at the self doubt. No! He would break the slave. At this point, it was a matter of pride. And if his Father found out that he couldn't control the slave, couldn't break the slave, he would likely suffer a bit of re-education himself, both on and off the rack. Surely his father had broken the man, but then how could the man still be so damned full of spirit? Maybe the slave was a test. If so, he was a test that Sam would not fail. He hadn't failed any of his father's tests in a long time and this one slave was not going to ruin it all now. 

* * *

Challenge. Right. Dean knew his ‘victory’ was a small one, but it was still a victory nonetheless. He had no doubt he would pay big time for denying Sam again, but he _had_ denied him. This was the second, or maybe even third, time he’d managed to stop Sam from doing whatever the fuck he wanted with him. He couldn’t stop Sam all the time, or even most of the time, but anytime he could was worth any pain.

At least, that’s what Dean told himself as the demons dragged him back into the other room and strapped him back down onto the rack. By now flesh and muscle had cauterized to the nails imbedded into his flesh and they hurt far worse being pulled out than they had going in. Every one that was yanked free took a good amount of flesh with it and blood spilled down his back. Every time he screamed, even though no one could hear it.

He wondered if he would even be able to move by the time the demons were done. How much more damage could his muscles take before he was crippled for the rest of his life? His scars reached so deep he couldn’t move without pain anymore. He knew he’d never be able to run again, he could barely walk. He could barely even feel it when Sam shoved his cock inside of him the nerves had been damaged so many times, though he still felt the blood running down his legs every time.

He didn’t want to feel anymore… why did he have to wake up? Why couldn’t he go away forever? He wanted to go back to that old house. He wanted to dig for worms with his brother and fish all day long. He wanted to roast marshmallows and laugh with the brother that loved and needed him.

What would his father say if he saw him now? His father who’d sold his soul to save his life. Who trusted him to protect Sam. To save him… or kill him if he couldn’t be saved. Was his father still in hell? Did he know how he’d failed? Did his father curse him between his screams on the rack?

_I’m sorry, Dad… I’m sorry, Sammy…_ Dean whispered but of course the only sound that escaped his lips was a breath. After about the ninth or tenth nail Dean finally passed out from the pain. 

* * *

Days had passed. Sam would get up in the morning and fuck Dean while Dean was still on the rack, then leave to tend to his duties. Whenever he returned, if he didn't collapse into bed, he would torture Dean and fuck him as often as possible. Sometimes, in the middle of the day, he would take a fuck-break or torture-break, visiting Dean. He'd heal him enough there was no danger of the man dying, and his guards made sure Dean ate and drank, sometimes resorting to putting a tube down his throat when Dean was in his "away" place, as Sam called it. When he was taken off the rack he was chained in the corner.

Sam would tell Dean on the progress being made, of the battles lost by the resistant humans and angels. When Sam was in good spirits, he would show almost tenderness towards Dean as he fucked him, just as when he was in a foul mood, he tortured Dean mercilessly.

Every time Dean went 'away' it frustrated Sam to no end, and he soon learned how much torture he could do to Dean, how much he could fuck him, and when he had to ease up or risk the slave disappearing to his private little happy place in his head. When he managed to keep his pet from going 'away' for two weeks straight, he was delighted. Dean seemed better behaved, though he still found the slave would take advantage of any momentary lapse on Sam's part. Twice more the man tried to kill himself, and thrice more he'd managed to break Sam's nose, dislocated his shoulder once, and even broken his hand once. Sam was more than a bit baffled how he could let himself get distracted around the slave, but there were times, thoughts came unbidden into his mind and his attention lapsed long enough that the slave managed to get the upper hand. Briefly, at least.

Sam had begun to take Dean out with him now and again, in chains of course, because he liked having his pet with him. He privately admired the man's tenacity and wished he could win the man over, convince Dean that Sam could offer him a pleasant life, _if only he'd cooperate._ But his pet didn't seem to grasp the meaning of the word.

Dean was chained in the corner of the battle room while Sam went over the newest intelligence collected. He looked up when he felt Azazel's approach, his gaze going to the door.

"Father, come to check on our progress?"

Azazel gave Sam a broad smile. "I always track your progress, Sammy. I—" He stopped speaking when he saw Dean chained in the corner of the room. "What are you doing with him?" he snarled.

Sam glanced over his shoulder at Dean. "He's been well-behaved the past few days. I thought he earned a day out."

Azazel walked stiffly up to Sam. "He is mine. Not yours. Guards! Take that piece of shit to my quarters!"

"You put him up for offer at the celebration when I killed the arch-angel. I've claimed him," Sam said, grim determination making his jaw set. "He's mine now."

"Impudent, ungrateful child!" Azazel snarled and threw Sam into the wall near Dean. "I did not offer him! He was put out in error."

Sam ignored the blood streaming down his face from a cut on his forehead. "You made me king. You never took the crown, never bore the cloak or the burden! I am King. You've proclaimed as much at every opportunity! I want this slave!"

Azazel Threw Sam into the wall again and held him there. He picked up a nearby blade and walked toward Sam. "You may be king, but I am your father and that means you are not above my wishes or my commands."

* * *

The days and nights had begun to blur together. Much as they had during the five years Dean had been locked in the dungeon. The passage of time meaning very little.

Patterns had developed rather quickly. Sam would fuck him, or torture him, every day. Sometimes both. Sometimes several times a day. Sometimes Dean would fight back. Other days he didn’t care enough to fight and he just endured it. Those days were occurring more and more often lately. Just like in the dungeon. Except instead of Azazel, Alistair, or any number of demons torturing and raping him it was Sam.

Nothing had changed really.

Whenever Sam wanted him to sleep with him, or give him pleasure ‘willingly’ Dean always fought however. He’d managed to hurt Sam a few times. Stop him. Which always resulted in more torture of course, but Dean didn’t really care. Sometimes he went away… but he always came back. Always.

It was hell. Pure and simple.

As much as he hated to admit it, Sam was breaking him. Slowly but surely chipping away at his will, his sanity, in ways more effectively than Azazel ever could. Because Dean could never forget it was Sam doing this to him. His brother who was fucking him. His brother who was making him scream. Sam…

He’d tried to kill himself. Tried to strangle himself with his own chains. Tried to rip open his wrists with his teeth. He couldn’t even get that right. How fucking pathetic was that? That he couldn’t manage to even kill himself? He wanted to die. He wanted to die so badly.

Dean wasn’t sure if it was better or worse when Sam seemed to figure out just how much he could push him before he went ‘away’. Sam stopped just before that point, giving him no reprieve. No hope that when he slipped away maybe this time he wouldn’t come back. But remembering Sam as he’d had been, seeing him as a boy, so innocent and loving, only to return and see Sam as he was now… that was definitely harder. So maybe it was for the best. One long never ending nightmare…

Sam leading him around like a dog on a leash in chains was ‘new’ however. The bastard seemed to think it was some kind of ‘reward’. Dragging him around like some kind of prized show animal. No one else touched him but Sam, but it was still far from a pleasant experience. He almost couldn’t wait to get back to his own little private dungeon in Sam’s quarters.

Dean spent most of his time curled in the corner doing his best to ignore what was going on around him. It wasn’t all that hard. He’d gotten pretty damned good at ignoring Sam when the other man wasn’t fucking him.

Suddenly hearing Azazel’s voice after all this time… that certainly got Dean’s attention. However it took Dean a moment to realize that the demon and the younger man were arguing about _him_. Azazel hadn’t given him to Sam… Dean had thought it was strange the demon would keep Sam away from him for five years only to give him to Sam these last few weeks, and he’d been right. Now Azazel was taking him back apparently… and Sam was now fighting with Azazel to keep him.

It was so hysterical in a completely fucked up way that Dean would have laughed if he could. Maybe he really had lost his mind…

The fight quickly turned ‘physical’. Watching Sam’s body slam into the wall with bone jarring force, seeing Sam’s blood, watching the demon advance on the younger man with a blade… something snapped inside of Dean. Much like that first day Sam had ‘claimed’ him rage ignited inside him hotter than a blazing sun and… something else. Something Dean would never believe could still be there after everything Sam had done to him.

But a second later Dean was launching himself at the demon like a rabid dog. Throwing himself at Azazel with enough force to send them both to the ground, and Dean wrapped his chains around the demons neck, doing his damndest to choke and break the mother fucker’s neck.

To protect Sam…

* * *

Azazel was surprised by the attack, surprised enough that the former hunter even managed to put him on the ground and get the chains around his neck. As if the human had enough strength to do any real damage to him. What surprised him even more was Sam watching, not stepping in, perhaps even enjoying the show.

_The ungrateful bastard._

Azazel punched Dean in the ribs hard, then grabbed his wrists and slowly pulled them away, forcing him to release the chains. "Wishing it was barbed wire, aren't you, Dean-O," Azazel hissed at him.

Sam watched the two with hooded eyes, wincing to himself when Dean took the hit in the ribs. After another moment, Sam strode forward and picked up the blade.

"Let him go, Father. I told you, he's mine now."

Azazel glared at his "son" then his dark eyes turned back to Dean. He gripped both of Dean's wrists in one hand and used his now free hand to unwrap the chain from his neck. That done, he tossed Dean back into the corner and tilted his head a little. "Stay," he ordered, holding Dean against wall.

Turning his attention back to Sam, his face grew hard. "You do not know what _he_ is. You do not know the deals struck with regard to him. Bargains were made. His life is protected. His soul is protected. I will not jeopardize those deals because you want…toys. You can have any demon, any soul, any human, even an angel if you want. He…he is off limits.

"Fath—" Sam began to protest.

"Samuel!" Azazel snapped. "Even the King is not above the law of the deal. Now stop this foolishness. He is not yours." Azazel waved at the nearby guards. "Return him to his cell. His proper cell."

Sam watched as the guards moved towards him. "Wait!"

Ignoring his father's annoyed look, Sam approached Dean and laid his hand on his ribs, healing the damage Azazel had done. "I will miss you, Dean," he whispered softly. "Something about you…made me feel complete in a way I never remember feeling before."

After he healed Dean he stepped back and let the guards take the man away.

* * *

Rage had pretty much blinded him, but Azazel’s blow quite effectively took the wind out of his sails. Almost literally. Dean felt his ribs shatter. All the air knocked from his lungs leaving him gasping for breath and choking in pain.

He lost his grip on the chains and Azazel pried his hands away without any effort at all. Just another reminder of how weak, how pathetic, his attempt at rebellion was. He might as well have been a fly buzzing around the demon’s head for all the good his so-called attack had done.

What the hell had he been thinking? He hadn’t been. He had reacted on pure instinct. He saw Sam in danger and he… Fuck, he really was out of his mind. He wanted to kill Sam himself for what the other man had done to him, and now he was jumping to defend him?

Dean snarled weakly at the demon’s words before he was batted aside like an insect. He didn’t even try to move from where Azazel had thrown him there in the corner. Curled in a ball, with his arms wrapped around his damaged ribs. Continuing to choke and wheeze, trying to inhale air into his damaged lungs and tasting blood instead on every exhale.

But even though his lungs weren’t working so good right now, his ears were working just fine. When the demon mentioned deals, Dean’s head snapped up, his eyes growing wide. Deals? What fucking deals? His life? His soul? In exchange for what?!

_Sam’s eyes were wide with terror. Watching him as the wire around his throat tightened, choking him, blood pouring down his neck. Azazel’s sickening yellow eyes gleamed with amusement as he watched. Slowly decapitating him. Sam was talking to the demon, desperate, begging. Then Azazel just… let him go. The demon touched Sam’s forehead. Sam dropped to the ground screaming…_

What was the deal? Oh god… what was the deal!

When Sam approached him, placed a hand on him, Dean flinched. It had become a habit now, after everything the young man had done to him. But Sam only healed him. Just like he would after torturing him or fucking him too hard. Sam’s words made him growl in anger and he barely resisted the urge to break Sam’s nose again. Fucking bastard. Azazel was doing Dean a favor. More or less.

_You should have let me die._ Dean thought, glaring at Sam as the demons grabbed him and dragged him away. 

* * *

Sam watched Dean disappear and felt something inside him twist. It was a strange feeling. Feeling elated that Dean would no longer suffer at his hand. Feeling fear that he didn't know where Dean would be. Fearing for his welfare. Would he be fed? Raped? Given water? Tortured? He scoffed at these strange thoughts. Af course those things would happen to Dean. He'd done them himself hadn't he? There just wouldn't be anyone there to heal the slave. He liked the slave, liked his spirit and constant fight, though admittedly the fight was beginning to drain from him. Then again, Dean had attacked Azazel for him. So why had he made the face and given him the look Sam knew too well. Dean was pissed at him and that was usually the point where he managed to catch Sam off guard and break his nose. He certainly wouldn't miss that. What he'd told Dean was true though. That slave was so damned frustrating and such a puzzle. Why did he feel a connection to the slave? It made no sense, it never had. Already his hands itched to have Dean's chains back in his possession.

Once Dean was out of sight, his angry gaze slid to Azazel. Sam asked for little from his father. If he asked for something and his father told him 'no,' he accepted it. He did not want to accept this though. He wanted that slave. He'd even consider bargaining for the slave if he thought he had anything Azazel would accept.

"He wasn't a toy," Sam said flatly, then turned back to the maps, already scheming on how to regain Dean. There was more than one way to skin a human.

"Yes, he was," Azazel said. "This is why you should not have the same fuck-slave for more than a few nights. The human part of you clouds your judgment. Too easily it grows attached. It shows weakness, weakness the ranks must not see. Weakness an enemy could use against you. Samuel, you rose your hand against _me_ , your father, all in the name of a fuck-toy. I've given you the world, a kingdom, an army. I leave you to rule, only stepping in when my years of experience say I need to. That fuck-toy is nothing but trouble, but I can't kill the boy."

_Dean. His name is Dean,_ Sam wanted to snarl at Azazel. Instead he simply gave his father a cool look. "And you stepping in certainly shows the ranks how much confidence you have in me. Taking away a pathetic slave from me is nothing but another way of undermining my power. The King has no say. I am a puppet for you, Father. Nothing more." Sam's voice was brittle and mocking.

Azazel's eyes turned dark and his anger flared. "Keep that attitude up, Samuel, and I'll show you what it is to be my puppet."

Sam glared at the demon then turned away. He wasn't as strong as Azazel, not yet. But that would change. He was tired of playing his father's puppet. Maybe Azazel didn't call all the shots, but he called more than Sam would like. Azazel could accept it and step out of his way, or Sam would strike him down if that's what it came to. His father was right, the human part of him did make him weak at times. He would need to gain more power, force his human side deeper inside him. He would need to show his power, brutality, and skills to the ranks, prove to them that Azazel was not the one to back if a power play went down. And one was going to go down, eventually. Then he would reclaim Dean and look for the deal surely written on his skin. Why had he never seen it? Unless Dean was the barter and the one the deal had been struck with. Thinking about his father's words, he decided that must be the case. It was possible the one the deal was struck with was long dead or in the ranks. He would somehow learn the details of the deal and make certain the bargains were kept. He would start inquiring about the slave, learn where Azazel kept him, learn who he'd bargained with, learn everything he could. Dean would be his again. He tightened his jaw with grim determination. That was a promise.

He pushed those treacherous thoughts down deep and focused instead on the next set of attacks on the human settlements. If he wanted to gain more power, that would be one angle to bolster it. There was a group of humans who were getting bold, forgetting their place. Leaving any settlement alone for any length of time and it seemed they thought they had chased off the demons and rebellion would begin to brew unless Sam kept some sort of demonic presence in the area. He needed to put an end to that sort of thinking in the humans. The humans still thought they had a chance at taking back the Earth. How foolish. They'd had their time. It was time for the demons to rule the cattle now. It was time for Sam to make some surgical, showy attacks and make it clear who was in charge.

* * *

The darkness. The screams. The smells of disease, filth and death. It was all too familiar as the demons tossed him into a cell in the deepest part of the dungeons and left him there.

_Home sweet home._ Dean thought bitterly, wrapping his arms around himself in a vain attempt to ward off the chill that was already beginning to seep down into his bones. He never thought he’d be glad to return to this place. This living hell he’d endured for the last five years. But if it meant not having to endure Sam’s… attentions…

Anything was better than that.

Dean wondered with morbid curiosity what Azazel had planned for him now. Nothing good he imagined. Not after Dean had attacked him. Not after he’d witnessed the power play between the yellow-eyed bastard and Sam, all over him, a worthless fuck toy. No, it wasn’t going to be pretty.

Unwillingly Dean recalled Sam’s last words whispered to him, and in a rage he slammed his fist into the cold stone floor. Again and again. Imagining the blood that poured from his split knuckles was the younger man’s. Imagining the pain he was feeling wasn’t his, but Sam’s.

God damn him. Damn him to hell for pretending like… like he fucking _cared_. Sam didn’t fucking care about him. He was just pissed off that Azazel had taken his new favorite toy away. He didn’t give a rats ass what Sam ‘felt’ when he was with him. The only thing Dean regretted was not taking the opportunity to break Sam’s nose one last time before the demons had dragged him away.

Once Dean had exhausted himself, and probably broke several bones in his hand, he slumped to the floor. Listening to the screams of the other prisoners. Knowing that his time would come soon. 

* * *

Sam returned to his quarters after the long series of battles he'd led, battles which had given him little rest in between. He'd functioned purely on demon blood, and there towards the last battles he was growing impatient to return home. He simply decimated the last couple of towns, giving the demons full run to do whatever they wanted to the inhabitants. The rebellious towns would stand as a reminder to others that Sam was only going to put up with so much insolence. Throughout the series of battles he'd taken a couple angels down and at one point an arch angel dared attempt to intercede. Instead of simply destroying the winged abomination, this time he'd beat him down and using oil-drenched chains lit aflame, capturing and holding him. He would be delivered to Alistair to torture and wring tactical information from. It would take time, certainly it would take time to extract anything from the angel, but Alistair and his father could likely get what was needed. Or maybe Sam would do it. He would enjoy tearing the wings off this "Gabriel." He was a torrent of power and still looking for a good fight but it seemed there was no one and nothing that could stand against him. …Except for Azazel.

He'd blown apart a mountain at one point to simply dump off some of the power he'd built up from the demon blood. The power he didn't discharge he worked on learning to hoard and hide. If he was going to take down his father, he would need to master the skill, learn to keep the demon blood active and fueling him for a long time. Perhaps it was time to stop eating human food…though if he lived all the time on demon blood, that would potentially make him susceptible to holy invocations and weapons. It was a delicate tight-rope.

Sighing with pleasure once he reached his quarters he immediately went in to check on Dean and stopped dead in his tracks when the rack was empty. His gaze shot to the corner where he would keep Dean chained. Something inside him snapped. He blew apart the rack, turning it into tiny pieces of shrapnel and the chains and tools in the room melted or turned to ash. Dean was no longer his. Damn his father!

He yelled at the guards to bring him food, flesh to fuck, and to get him Ruby. When one guard was slow to salute, Sam eradicated him with barely a thought. He wanted hamburgers with onions, French fries and apple pie. It was a strange craving for him, but that's what he wanted. Ruby arrived before the food or the slaves.

"Find out where Dean is," Sam growled at her.

"Who?" She looked at him blankly.

"The slave I'd been keeping. Azazel reclaimed him. Find where he is, find out everything you can about him and the deal that was struck that's keeping him alive. And my father is not to hear a whisper about this. Understood?"

Ruby shook her head. "Getting emotionally attached is a bad idea, Sammy."

He glared at her. "It's less an emotional attachment and more a matter that Azazel still has the power to take anything away from me. I am the Boy-King. Earth and Hell are mine to oversee and run, yet a word from my father and my power is nothing. He is obeyed and I am ignored." His eyes narrowed. "This Dean slave is obviously very important to him. He was furious when he found I had possession of him. I want to know why. I want to know how I can use it against him."

Ruby cocked an eyebrow at him. "Considering making a power play?"

"Maybe I am."

"You'd do well to have a queen at your side and don't forget, taking out your father, you also have your mother, Lilith to deal with as well."

Sam eyed Ruby. "I need you as my first lieutenant right now…but there will come a time when…a queen might be a good idea. Especially with the appropriate bargains struck. Find me what I want, find me what I need, and keep it all from my parents. Continue to be my trusted right hand and I see the potential for a throne in your future. No playing both sides Ruby. If I find you've betrayed me in any fashion, I'll destroy you. Understood?"

"Ooo, I like it when you get demanding and power hungry. You got it, Baby. I'll get you that information," she said, swaying her hips and planting a promising kiss on his lips before turning to leave.

Sam licked his lips and once she was gone, waved the demons in with his food and a decent selection of fresh slaves to chose from. He chose two women and one man and had them chained while he ate and contemplated how trustworthy Ruby really was.


	3. Chapter 3

On the rack, Dean lost all track of time. Hours bled into days. Days into weeks. Maybe longer. Alistair had been quite pleased to have his favorite past time back and wasted no time getting reacquainted. Remarking how Sam had 'prettied' him up. Essentially a fresh canvas to work with.

  
Just when Dean didn't think he could hate Sam more.

Now he felt, and probably looked, a lot like a slab of meat that had been put through a food processor. His back and front a mess of lacerations from barbed whips. His dislocated shoulders had mercifully gone numb a long time ago. Though sometimes he still felt the broken bones in his arms bound over his head shift when he moved. Alistair had brought out all his favorite tools. Expertly pealing back flesh and then cauterizing it back into place.

Sometimes Azazel came to watch the show. Though he didn't participate the demon enjoyed going into great detail what was in store for him. This was just the beginning. Remarking how they'd been 'lenient' with him over the years. Allowing him to stay mostly in one piece. But now… with all the trouble he'd caused… they were going to change that.

Once they were done with him Dean wasn't going to look appealing to anyone anymore, much less Sam. Not with the flesh ripped off his face and his eyes plucked out, just for starters.

Before Alistair could get started on the next phase however something changed. He'd been left alone for hours now. Though he hadn't been taken off the rack Alistair was nowhere in sight. Vaguely Dean remembered the demon mentioning something about bigger fish to fillet. He might have said more but Dean hadn't really been in a condition to understand much.

Now though even he began to realize something was… off. It was quiet. It was never quiet. Someone was always screaming, especially when Alistair was around. What the hell was going on?

* * *

  
_The locker was full of sweets. Candies, candy bars, marshmallow treats, cakes, pies. It was overflowing with treats. It wasn’t his locker though. A hand brushed over his shoulder and he turned to see a blond woman in a nurse outfit smile at him. “See Sam, told you you’d crash and burn without me.” She handed him a chocolate chip cookie and walked away. He knew he should know her, know her name, but nothing, there was nothing there. His father was leaning against a locked door. When he started to approach, Azazel shook his finger back and forth, telling him it was off limits. He turned and saw Dean dressed in leather, needing a shave, looking in perfect condition._

_“Dude, how could you flatten the tires of my baby?”_

_Sam tilted his head. Tires? He frowned. “Comp…my computer.”_

_“Told you I didn’t do it!” Dean said around a mouthful of apple pie._

_An older grizzled man appeared with a ball cap on. “It’s a trickster, you chuckleheads.”_

_The angel was there, grinning at him. “Sam, Sam, Sam,” the Trickster said, tsking and shaking his head. “You’re as big a sap now as you were then. Power, lost memories, screwed in the head. Still a loser, still so gullible. Though it’s priceless you don’t know who he is.” The angel grinned, nodding toward Dean. “He hates you now. More than anything. After everything you did. That’s just priceless irony, too. Never could think on your feet that well, could you? All that anger and emotion getting in the way.”_

_The angel walked forward, flaming shackles on him. “You think this would hold me?” He grinned and faded away, the flaming shackles falling to the floor…_

* * *  
It wasn’t the easiest to pull off, switching back and forth without being noticed. Hiding in plain sight without being spotted. He was his doppelganger when he needed to be, but when he didn’t, his attention and presence were focused elsewhere.

It had been a risk, going up against Sam Winchester. Raphael had paid the price of going toe to toe. Gabriel had suggested the current ploy and reluctantly the others had agreed. If the Boy-King were assassinated, hopefully the demon troops would fall into disarray. Gabriel had not been pleased to discover a high level demon, Azazel, was still pulling the strings, nor that Lilith, the first demon, was still around and in on it too. He needed to get that information to his brethren, but he couldn’t risk trying to send the information unless he was dying. Killing Winchester may not put the demons in as much turmoil as they’d hoped, but it was still the plan as far as he was concerned.

Gabriel slunk through the tunnels, finding his way to the map room, looking over the plans. He changed some of the locations of ‘known’ rebel camps, switched some troop patrols to give the rebels fewer demons to take on all at once. After doing what he could to make minor changes that shouldn’t be noticed, he moved on.

It hadn’t taken long to find his way to the Boy-King’s living quarters, and killing the guards had been simple enough. He took on the appearance of one of them and entered the royal chambers.

The opulent display of power and wealth was nauseating. He silently slipped through the rooms until he found the bedchamber. Winchester was there, three slaves chained to the same bed he slept in. The Boy-King was tossing restlessly in his sleep.

Pulling out the demon killing knife they’d recently acquired, Gabriel was prepared to thrust it into Sam’s heart when one of the slave girls woke up and screamed. Sam jolted awake, saw the knife and started to roll away, but became tangled in the chains of the slave beside him. Gabriel sunk the knife into Sam’s back, cursing as he missed Sam’s heart. Still, the runes lit up and the demon blood in Sam reacted. The blade hadn’t much more than sank in when alarms were raised. Gabriel pulled the knife back out, ready to strike a lethal blow. The screaming woman covered Sam’s body as she scrambled to get away from Gabriel, but the chains wouldn’t let her go any further. Gabe yanked her off Sam, not caring that he shattered the woman’s hands as they were ripped free of the shackles, but Sam was up on his feet, his eyes black. He cast the angel back, throwing him against the wall.

Launching the demon knife, the blade buried itself in Sam’s gut, but Sam was still standing. Gabriel knew his chance was gone. He knew the blade had weakened Sam, but he wasn’t sure how much, and the rebels needed his newly gained knowledge. He couldn’t risk the Sam was still strong enough to kill him.

Racing back through the tunnels, he slipped down a secondary set of hallways he’d found earlier. He paused when he saw the racks lining both sides of the hall. Demons were gone, gone to defend against the attack the angels were making on the stronghold, both to kill as many as they could and if Sam had been killed, maybe strike a second major blow and scatter them. Not to mention provide a diversion to help Gabriel make his escape if he were still alive to try to do so.

Gabriel picked up two swords, and as he went down the hall, put those who were still human out of their misery. Though in truth, it was to ensure the demons didn’t get to help grow their ranks by turning this captured souls. He raised a sword, ready to strike down one man when he paused and took a closer look.

“Alive?” he whispered.

Done. He was done with this all. He touched the man, healing him enough to stabilize him, and broke the chains that bound him to the rack. “You could be useful,” he murmured as he took to flight and, with Dean held tightly against him and a sword in his other hand, he headed for the exit, the demons ill-prepared for the attack from behind.

* * *

The longer the silence lasted the more nervous Dean became. A part of him didn’t want to know what was happening. Wanted to stay in that blank haze that he’d fallen into after days of continuous agony. Hovering in that place on the edge of unconsciousness, not yet lost in his own mind but nearly so. One more push and he’d probably slip back into that ‘away’ place in his head and be lost for hopefully a long time. Long enough for Alistair to finish with him and Dean wouldn’t have to feel it… much…

If he fought it, he might stay awake through all of it. Feel everything. That was the last fucking thing Dean wanted. But a morbid sense of curiosity gripped him and wouldn’t let go no matter how hard he tried to shake it off.

It was a double-edged sword. Feeling himself becoming more aware of what was happening around him also made him more aware of himself. Pain that had been reduced to something of a dull background noise was now screaming through him once more. He gasped with fresh agony, like it was new, but he didn’t black out. He lifted his head, slowly blinking his eyes open to see the room he was in for the first time. Alistair’s favorite torture chamber, nothing new about that. Dean realized for the first time that he wasn’t alone, but that wasn’t anything new either.

Even the new sound he heard, the sound of metal meeting flesh. The splattering of blood and the gurgling of someone choking on their own blood was nothing new either. What was new however was the man that suddenly stood in front of him. Dean didn’t recognize him but something told him he probably _should_. Maybe he would have if the blood dripping into his eyes hadn’t almost left Dean blind.

He did see the man’s… demon… he wasn’t sure raise his sword. Dean felt a split second of hope that this was finally the end, but the killing blow he would have begged the man for if he could never came.

Dean dropped his head, no longer caring about the man or anything else. Though a second later he was shocked by the sudden flood of warmth through him, feeling much like Sam’s power rushing through him when it healed him, but different as well. He felt his shackles give way and a silent scream tore from his throat. As he fell he felt unconsciousness rush up to greet him, wrapping around him much like the stranger’s arms that caught him.

The man’s words made no sense to him and Dean gave up trying. The last thing he heard… he thought… the beating of wings.

* * *

Sam watched as the man moved with inhuman speed, escaping from his quarters. The arch-angel…

Clenching his jaw he pulled the blade from his gut. He struggled to heal himself but the blade had destroyed much of demon blood in him. It took everything he had to close the wounds, but close the wounds he did. Healed? No. No where near. But he wasn't going to bleed to death at this point.

He carried the knife into the bathroom and rinsed it free of his blood then placed it down in a drawer. Returning to the bedroom he saw the woman who had inadvertently saved his life. Twice. Her hands were a bloody mess and she was cowering in the corner, sobbing. The other two slaves were still chained, holding each other and not daring to look at Sam.

After pulling on clothes and grabbing weapons, Sam stepped out into the hall to find his guards dead, no scent of demon in their blood. Dammit. He tried to contact Ruby with his mind, but he didn't even have enough juice left to do that. For all intents, he was practically human, and an injured human at that. The withdrawals would start soon, he was that close to being human again. He looked up toward the ceiling, distant sounds carrying through the rock. The alarms indicated there was an attack against their stronghold. Sam should be on the front lines, decimating the enemy, leading his army, but he was weak as a newborn and the demons would sense that. He needed demon blood. Powerful demon blood and he needed it now.

With determined strides he headed toward where he knew there would still be guards. His father's quarters. "Where is Lord Azazel?" Sam demanded.

The guard looked at him for a moment then gave a slight bow. "In the strategy room, your Highness."

He looked between the two. "I need blood. Now."

Both guards offered up their arms without argument. It was tempting to take all of their blood, destroy two of Azazel's loyal backers, but if Sam killed them, Azazel would suspect Sam might be preparing to make a power play. He couldn't have that. With blood back in him, he finished healing himself and could contact Ruby to see where she was.

Fighting.

He contacted Alistair and demanded Alistair meet him in the south wing. He could sense Alistair was with his parents. Both he and Alistair arrived at almost the same time. Sam didn't slow his stride, physically pinning the demon to the wall.

"The Arch-Angel Gabriel freed himself from your chains, from your rack. I give you an arch-angel to practice your skill on and I end up fighting the son-of-a-bitch in my quarters with my two trusted guards dead!" Sam raged at him. His father would be pissed, he knew his father would be pissed, but he didn't give a damned. He sank his teeth into Alistair's neck and drank, drank him all the way in. The shell of Alistair's body crumbled to dust.

A grin slowly spread across Sam's face and his eyes turned from hazel to black to gold. Now he was ready to lead the army and incinerate anything that got in his way.

* * *

  
_The sky was dark. It was night but there were no stars. No moon. In the distance Dean saw faint flashes of light in the thick clouds overhead. He heard the faint rumble of thunder. The wind began to pick up and he could practically taste the electricity in the air. The storm was coming. Fast. But it wasn’t here yet._

_He sat on the hood of the Impala. The engine was still ticking as it cooled down. A wide open field spread out in front of him. Empty. As far as he could see there was only darkness. No lights in house windows or from cars passing by on the small country road behind him. Not a single sign of human life other than his own._

_But he knew he wasn’t alone._

_The wind shifted and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. His fingers tightened a little around the cold beer bottle slowly collecting droplets of condensation from the humidity in the air. There was a soft crunch of gravel, footsteps, stopping just over his left shoulder. He didn’t turn around, however. He didn’t need to._

_“Sam.” He said softly, before he lifted the bottle to his lips and took a long drink. It wasn’t a greeting, just an acknowledgment of the younger man’s presence. There was another flash of lightning, another rumble of thunder. Louder now. Closer._

_“Aren’t you going to say anything?” Dean finally asked after the silence between them stretched to an almost painful length. He felt the first droplets of rain beginning to land on his skin. Pretty soon it was going to be a downpour. He didn’t move however. He just sat there. Waiting._

_Another flash of lightning, so close and so bright it made Dean wince, the thunder that followed so loud it left his ears ringing for a long time after the rumbling had finally faded. Frustrated, Dean finally turned. Looking over his shoulder but whatever he’d been planning on saying to his brother died in his throat._

_No one was there._

_Suddenly the rain began to fall in earnest. The clouds opening up and he was drenched down to the skin within seconds. Dean looked down at his hand, the rain gathering in his palm. Lightning flashed again, showing him his skin drenched in red._

_In blood._

***

When Dean woke he could still smell the familiar metallic tang of blood from his dream. He wasn’t unaccustomed to waking up covered in blood. Most of the time his own. So that did not alarm him. What alarmed him was everything else that was different.

He was not in chains, for starters. That was the first thing he noticed. The second was that he wasn’t lying on the floor, or on the rack, or even the overly plush bed he’d grown somewhat familiar with in Sam’s quarters. It wasn’t even a bed from the feel of it. More like a cot.

Slowly Dean opened his eyes. They felt practically cemented shut from the dried blood sticking to his face but he finally managed to drag them open. He found himself staring at a cracked ceiling he did not recognize. Turning his head only confirmed that the room was completely foreign to him. Barely bigger than a broom closet with paint and plaster peeling everywhere. Only the cot he was lying on and a wooden box serving as a table where a single candle sat offering the only light source. He had no idea where the fuck he was but he definitely wasn't in the dungeon or Sam’s rooms.

He tried to sit up but gave up quickly when every inch of his body screamed in agony. Gritting his teeth he panted harshly, waiting for the pain to fade back to a more manageable level. Well, that explained why he wasn’t chained down. He couldn’t move anyway. Wherever he was he was trapped and helpless. Some things never changed.

* * *

Word passed through the ranks of the angels. Gabriel had escaped. Castiel expected to hear a cheer and a push forward to begin to break the ranks of the demons, but Michael instead called for a retreat. When the Boy-King appeared in all his demonic glory, Castiel realized why. Some of his brothers and sisters died but most angels were able to escape the wrath of that half-breed demonic human.

It wasn't until he returned to Heaven that he learned the Boy-King might not be running things as everyone had assumed. Two very old demons appeared to be behind all the machinations of it. Gabriel had made the effort to kill the Boy-King but had failed and lost the demon killing knife in the process. Their holy swords could smite and destroy the demons, but the demon blade would not be sensed by the demons and it allowed an angel to get closer than he or she might otherwise. Still, it was a minor loss, really.

He was surprised when Anna requested his presence in the council chambers. He was little more than a soldier. He had greater sympathy for the humans than most angels and had spoken on their behalf a few times, but he could not fathom what they could want from a simple soldier like himself.

Gabriel looked a bit rough around the edges, probably much like Castiel looked. The battle had been hard but far more demons had fallen than angels. Castiel went to one knee before the arch-angels and bowed his head.

"Castiel, you have an interest in the humans, do you not?" Michael asked.  
Castiel rose to his feet and tilted his head as he met Michael's gaze. "I find them beautiful creations of our Father. Beautiful in their innocence and imperfections. I have always enjoyed my time stationed on Earth. Until recently, of course."

Gabriel and Michael passed looks and Gabriel finally gave a nod of agreement. "I still say he'd do better under the care of one of our sisters," Gabriel said with a shrug. "He was always a ladies man."

"His soul is surely broken by his time there," Anna said. "Castiel has a soft spot for humans. He will guard and take care of him. Help him to heal."

Castiel waited patiently for those of higher rank to finish their discussions and give him his orders.

Gabriel approached Castiel and put an arm over his shoulder, guiding him out of the chambers and into a hall. "While I was inside that little slice of Hell on Earth, I found a possible treasure. The Boy-King," Gabriel gave a soft snort. "His name is Samuel Winchester. He's the younger brother of Dean Winchester and the brothers were always very close and protective of one another. Very protective." Gabriel paused. "I found Dean Winchester. Still human, at least I hope so. He may be a tool we can use against the Boy-King. Either as leverage if Sam wants him back, or as a source of information if we can turn Dean against his brother, which, I gotta tell you, I don't think will be a problem. You, Castiel," he slapped him on the back, "have been elected to be his personal body guard. Find some human on the verge of death, someone who wants vengeance, is righteous, whatever tickles your fancy, take the human as your host and go to Dean. I left him in the care of one of his old friends, Bobby Singer."

"I have never interacted with humans. I do not understand many of their ways," Castiel said, feeling both excitement and trepidation at the idea of actually being among them.

"You'll do fine. I dropped him off in something of a hurry. He went through a real meat grinder, so you'll need to heal him. And I didn't really bother to say anything to his friend. I needed to get the intel back to Michael."

"Of course," Castiel said. "I will find a host and go to Dean Winchester immediately."

Castiel quickly found a righteous man who had lost his wife and daughter in the battles. It was simple enough to convince the man to agree to Castiel's presence. Gabriel had shown him where Dean Winchester was and he went there post haste once he had his host.

He walked into the encampment, ignoring the firearms raised against him. "I am here to see Bobby Singer about Dean Winchester. I am Castiel, a servant of Heaven." He caused the sky to darken and lightning to crackle, illuminating his shadowy wings.

"I'm Singer," a man said stepping forward, gun raised, muzzle pointed at him. "Dean Winchester's been dead for a long time, before his brother went darkside, thankfully."

"No. He was in the demon stronghold, held in chains and tortured. He has been rescued and now lies in that building, in need of healing."

"Bullshit," Boddy snarled.

Castiel turned toward the building he had indicated and began walking toward it. He ignored the first couple of gunshots until he finally turned and with a flick of his hand, ripped the weapons out of everyone's hands. "If I was here to hurt you, I would have already."

He turned back and walked up the stairs to the building, pushing open the door and walking down the wooden hallway until he reached the small room in the center of the building. "I am an angel of the Lord and am here to help and protect you, Dean Winchester. My name is Castiel."

"Holy shit," Bobby exclaimed, pushing past Castiel and into the room to kneel by the cot. "It's really you, Boy, it's really you," he said, tears springing into his eyes as he gently ran a hand over Dean's forehead, afraid to touch him anywhere else considering how blood-covered he was.

* * *

Unable to move and nothing else to do Dean passed the time by watching the play of light and shadow created by the faint candlelight against the cracked and water stained ceiling. Maybe he could have slept, he was exhausted and weak enough, but he didn’t particularly want to dream. Hell, he wasn’t all that certain he wasn’t dreaming now, and in that case he didn’t want to wake up.

It wasn’t all that difficult to simply let his mind go blank. There were certainly a lot of things he _could_ think about. Like wondering where he was, why he wasn’t on the rack, why Alistair and Azazel hadn’t followed through on their threats yet, or when they would return to finish the job. But frankly Dean didn’t care enough to wonder about any of those things.

What the hell did any of it matter really? For all intents and purposes he was already dead. Already in hell, even though he was still alive. What the hell did he have to look forward to beyond being cut, burned, torn, and fucked in every possible way within an inch of his life? Dean had thought he’d resigned himself to that fate a long time ago.

Then Sam ‘claimed’ him. Something about being near Sam, his brother the one to do all those terrible things to him, it had ignited a spark of rebellion inside him that had been nearly snuffed out. It made him want to fight. Fight until his very last breath. The rage he felt towards Sam, the betrayal… it made him feel human for the first time in a long time.

Sam had determinedly and systematically worked to destroy that. As much as Dean hated to admit it, Sam had been succeeding too. His brother succeeding where Alistair and Azazel had failed before. Then Azazel had taken him away from Sam and… it was as if the demon had taken away his reason for fighting at the same time. It was a crushing blow Dean hadn’t been expecting leaving him shattered. As broken on the inside as he was on the outside.

He had nothing left. Not even anger. Just his life and that was worthless.

Which was why when he heard the sound of purposeful footsteps approaching Dean only felt resignation. Not bothering to even turn his head and look as the door opened. The words spoken to him by a voice he didn’t recognize didn’t even register at first. It wasn’t until the second voice, one he _did_ recognize, that Dean finally turned his head slowly towards his two ‘visitors’. Blinking slowly, almost expecting the illusion to shatter when he did but it remained firmly in place.

Bobby? The last time Dean had seen the older hunter was that night in Cold Oak. He’d watched Bobby fly through the air and slam against a wall with such a force Dean wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d broken his neck on impact. He barely had a second to worry about the older man’s fate before Dean had been thrown as well, pinned against the same wall by barbed wire wrapping around his neck and then…

Needless to say Dean was having serious doubts about the reality of seeing Bobby now, alive, after all this time. The man looking like he’d aged about twenty years, sporting a new scar on his right cheek running down to his jaw, but otherwise exactly as Dean remembered. More likely Dean had gone completely off the deep end and his hallucinations had just taken a different turn. Now he wasn’t just reliving camping and fishing with his little brother who wasn’t a crazy demonic bastard, he was seeing Bobby alive and… an angel who was now going to play his bodyguard or something.

Yeah, that was sane.

Dean gave ‘Bobby’ a blank look, not even reacting when the other man touched him and looked like he was going to burst into tears at any second. He didn’t like these hallucinations any more than he liked the other ones. He’d probably like them even less once he ‘woke up’ again.

* * *

Castiel approached Dean and laid two fingers on his forehead, fully restoring the man to physical health…almost, even cleaning away the filth and the blood that coated his body. The angel frowned and examined the scar along Dean's throat. "Demonic writing, part of a contract for a deal. This cannot be healed by me unless I know what the contract is for. It seems to be tied to the fate of Samuel Winchester, but this is merely a small excerpt of the contract. The contract is binding. Michael…Michael might be able to break the deal or at least, this portion of the deal and heal you, Dean. I will approach him at next opportunity, but I do not know when that will be."

Castiel rested a hand on Bobby Singer's shoulder. "He is repaired, physically, except for the scars about his throat and therefore, he still cannot speak. He believes us to be hallucinations and that he is insane. He is waiting to wake up back in the hands of the demons. He needs food and water, and perhaps a walk outside of these walls to see the truth. Gabriel marked him so no demon can find him. He is safe. I will protect him from all harm."

Giving the man a nod, Bobby turned back to Dean. "This ain't no hallucination or nightmare you're having, Dean," Bobby said. "We're in an old camping ground in Montana. We do our best to run things in this part of the country, and co-ordinate with others elsewhere. We keep our locations secret from other cell groups, just like they do, so if one group is captured, they can't betray the others. Ash has got some fancy-schmancy communications set up that lets us talk with others without giving away anyone's position. I don't understand it, but it seems to work." Bobby paused a moment. "You hungry? Thirsty?" He pulled out a flask. "Got a bit o' whiskey if you want some until we can get you some real food. Fresh bread? Might have some venison stew left, of might just have a bit of rabbit or squirrel. We got us some chickens so eggs if you'd rather." Bobby knew he was babbling and paused, waiting for Dean to say something, then remembered the angel guy said Dean couldn't talk.

"Somebody get me some paper and a pencil!" he yelled out the door to the tentative onlookers.

"Singer, how do we know this isn't a trap?" a man at the door demanded. "They might have found a way past our defenses."

"You saw my wings, did you not?" Castiel asked, tilting his head. He gave a small shrug. "I can take Dean Winchester elsewhere. He was brought here because of him," he said, indicating Bobby. "Gabriel had apparently met the Winchesters and Bobby Singer when he was in hiding, playing a trickster of some sort, if the rumors are true." Looking at Bobby, Castiel asked. "Do you wish for us to leave?"

"No!" Bobby snapped. He looked at the man who had challenged Dean's presence. "He stays. He needs food, water, rest, and some God-damned paper and a pencil!"

* * *

Dean was still looking at Bobby and missed when the ‘angel’ approached him as well. When the other man touched him however it was impossible to ignore him any longer. Dean gasped sharply as the pain in his body suddenly… vanished.

Whenever Sam healed him it was different. Like his skin was being forced back together, bones realigned and fused at a rapid pace. The healing often hurt as much as the wounds themselves until it was nearly over, the flesh whole again and bones aligned back in their rightful place. But this… this was like the wounds had never existed in the first place. Not so much healed as never wounded to begin with.

Slowly Dean lifted his hand and looked at it. His face morphing into a mask of shock, staring at his hand like it did not belong to him. No one… no one would ever guess that every bone in his hand had been broken over and over and practically crippled from the years of abuse he’d endured. He flexed his fingers, curled them into a fist with ease, and he still couldn’t believe it. Even the blood was gone…

When the dark-haired man touched his neck, Dean flinched. Pulling away reflexively and eyeing the angel distrustfully in spite of everything. This… wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t be real. He couldn’t be… out… of that place…

His eyes flickered back and forth between Bobby and the angel. Could… could the fucker read his _mind_ too? Well if he was a part of Dean’s hallucinating mind it wasn’t that far fetched, but it was so… different. Insane people didn’t know they were insane, they didn’t question their sanity. When he hallucinated about Sam he never questioned it. This…

Dean’s heart pounded against his rib cage so hard it hurt.

Bobby was still talking. Dean wasn’t hearing most of it. Something about Montana, camping, and rabbits. His eyes darted to the door. Saw the other people gathered there. No one he recognized, and he didn’t really care about them either. What he cared about was what he saw beyond them. A window. A sliver of light.

Suddenly Dean was pushing himself up from the cot. Ignoring the hands that tried to steady him. Not giving a shit when the ratty blanket that had been thrown over him fell to the floor as he stumbled his way buck naked out to the door. He’d lost his sense of modesty a long time ago. He shoved his way past the gawkers crowded outside his ‘room’ and only stopped when he reached the window. Staring out of the dirty glass in utter disbelief.

Pine trees mostly. The others bare skeletons having lost all their leaves a long time ago. The sky was cloudy. It looked like rain… or snow… soon. He could feel the cold on his skin. Against his palm when he pressed it against the glass. Real… it was real…

That was about the time his knees started to give out beneath him. Though his body was healed his weakness remained.

* * *

Castiel was beside Dean instantly when his legs began to fold under him, catching him easily and lifting him up into his arms. "It will take time to regain your strength," he told him. "I will take you outside so you can prove to yourself this is real. The snow won't fall until the sun sets."

"The man needs some clothes!" Bobby huffed, grabbing the blanket that had fallen on the floor. "You can't take him out into the cold, naked! And we got some young 'uns around here that don't need to be seeing his family jewels."

Castiel stared at Bobby a moment and then the onlookers. "As you wish." It took only a moment and suddenly Dean was dressed in jeans and a thick flannel shirt. To the human eye it seemed Dean was suddenly dressed where as in truth, Castiel raided the first set of clothes he could find and put the clothes on Dean, though he left Dean's feet bare. He strode with Dean to the doorway and walked down the stairs, then took him to a nearby beat up picnic table and set him on his feet. Dean could sit down at the table if he wanted, or simply use it to help him stand.

"Is this satisfactory?" Castiel asked, giving a warning look to a few of the people nearby who moved a few steps closer to Dean.

* * *

Dean had fully expected to eat dirt, so he was a bit surprised when iron strong arms wrapped around him instead. Not just catching and steadying him but lifting him up into a bridal carry like he weighed nothing at all.

Weak or not he didn't want to be carried around like a god-damned child but pushing against the angel's chest was like pushing against a brick wall. Dean scowled at the man even though he really did want to go outside. He needed to…

Then Bobby spoke up and Dean looked down at himself for the first time. Bobby had a point. Fuck… Bobby… was he really real? He looked at the older man, disbelief warring with the faint flickerings of hope. Dean knew he couldn't let himself hope. Not yet. It would be… too much… to hope only to have it ripped away. It would be the straw that broke the camel's back.

Before he could dwell on it suddenly it was as if the wind was knocked out of him, leaving him gasping a little and staring at the angel still holding him in shock. Well, he was dressed now… and being carried outside. Too stunned to mount a protest, not like he could really considering he couldn't fucking talk. But the man had read his mind before hadn't he?

At least the angel… what did he say his name was? He put him down once they were outside. The ground was cold and hard underneath his feet but Dean didn't care right now. He gave the angel a shaky nod, reaching out to steady himself on the edge of the table. His knuckles bone white he was clutching it so tight, not even feeling the splinters that started to push their way into the pads of his fingers.

Dean stared out at the woods surrounding the small encampment. He looked up at the sky. He could now smell the chill in the air as well as feel it. There was also the faint smell of burning wood. His eyes took in the old buildings that had obviously seen better days. The people, everyone was staring at him, some of them murmuring to each other. Everything just like Bobby said. Everything almost frightening real.

His eyes finally fell on Bobby Singer once more, the man having followed him outside at some point. His lips formed the older man's name but of course no sound came from his throat. For Dean, that was the last proof he needed. In his hallucinations, his dreams, even his nightmares he could still speak. He could still scream...

Releasing the table Dean took several stumbling steps and threw his arms around the older man. Shaking, tears cold against his cheeks, he sobbed against Bobby's shoulder, holding onto the former hunter like a lifeline.

* * *

Bobby watched as the so-called angel took the young man he thought of like a son, out into the cold. If it really was Dean. If this wasn’t a trick. It could be Dean’s body but a demon could be in it. Or he could be a shapeshifter…Any dozens of possibilities sprung to mind.

The last thing Bobby recalled of the brothers was being with Dean at Cold Oak, then getting his ass tossed into a wall by a yellow eyed demon. The same one, he was certain, who had killed both the boys’ parents. When he woke up, he had a concussion and a headache the size of a freight train, and there wasn’t sign one of either Dean or Sam. Or the demon for that matter. Seemed like no time at all later and an army of demons had been let loose and then there were reports that Bobby vehemently denied. Until he couldn’t any longer. Sam was working with the yellow-eyed demon. Of Dean, there still wasn’t any sign. Bobby had long thought maybe Sam was doing the demon’s bidding because maybe the demon was holding Dean but the things Sam did…no, not even for Dean would the boy do those terrible things.

A few years passed, and in no time, demons had overrun the world. Angels made themselves known to the world and people fought and died and died and died. Hunters did something that was pretty much unheard of. They banded together, worked together, and started an underground resistance. Sometimes they got word from overseas and the stories were much the same. Demons ran things, but there were those fighting back as best as they could.

Angels, it turned out, were pretty much dicks. They were arrogant haughty bastards that considered humans equivalent to fleas most times. There were exceptions, or so he’d heard, but he’d only ever met one angel, an arch-angel, and Raphael was a dick. But a powerful dick and useful for going up against the demons. Until the battle where ‘the Boy-King’ as the demons called him, though Bobby had always just called him Sam, tore the arch-angel apart. That was when most of them were pretty certain it was just a matter of time until humans were nothing more than slaves, meatsuits and playthings.

When he saw Dean turn and look at him, saw him mouth his name, but no sound came from him, he knew, just knew, it was Dean. It was really God-damned Dean. He clutched the sobbing young man against him.

“It’s gonna be okay, Dean. You’re with friends now. You’re safe here. I’ll get you put up at my place. I got a couple windows so’s you can look outside all you want and when yer up to it, my place ain’t far from the food.” He held Dean and waited until the young man finally got a hold of himself.

“C’mon, son, let’s get you out of this cold, get you some socks and boots, and get you bedded down proper. Your baby, your Impala, she’s here. Pretty beat up, but she runs good still. Use her for a workhorse around the camp sometimes. After you’ve eaten and slept, I’ll take you to her if you want.”

* * *

Dean felt like he was caught in the middle of the ocean during a storm. A violent, twisting, churning sea of emotions crashing into him all at once he couldn’t even begin to define any of them. Right now Bobby was the only think keeping him from being swept away. The older man’s arms the only thing that kept him from going under and drowning.

He was shaking so hard if Bobby wasn’t holding on to him Dean knew he would have ended up on his ass. Practically choking on the sobs that tore from his throat. Maybe he should have been embarrassed by his little melt down, but frankly he was far beyond caring what anyone might think of him right now.

It felt like years of agony was pouring out of him like a bleeding wound and Dean knew he could cry for a lifetime and he’d probably never get rid of it all. But _something_ inside of him felt lighter somehow and it was a feeling Dean never thought to feel again. It was enough to ease his sobs a little. Focusing on Bobby’s words as his breath hitched in his throat and he tried to regain a little bit of control over himself again.

Did Dean really believe he was among friends? Did he really believe he was safe? No. It would take a lot longer than a five-minute walk out in the cold for him to begin to believe that. Maybe he’d never truly believe it, but Bobby being here… it was a start. It was a fucking miracle.

At Bobby’s suggestion that they go back inside out of the cold Dean reluctantly nodded. He didn’t really want to go inside. Not after years of being trapped inside that horrifying pit, surrounded by the smell of death. He didn’t actually mind the cold, even though the wind was chilling even though the clothes he was wearing and his feet were starting to go numb. But he barely had the strength to stand on his own two feet right now and he didn’t want to have to burden Bobby by making the man hold him up.

The older man mentioning his car… that was another shock and almost pulled another round of sobs from him but he swallowed them back. Nodding again as he let Bobby lead him back indoors.

* * *

Bobby was relieved when Dean seemed to have regained some sensibilities back. “My place is just over there,” he told Dean, pointing to a building closer to the center of the compound. “I used to be out here, but they wanted me closer to HQ.”

“Singer, the man hasn’t even been tested with silver or holy water. You can’t just sashay him right into the main compound!” One of the men protested.

“You take that up with the angel, there,” Bobby snapped back. “I’ll do all the tests once we get him to my place and get him a meal.”

Castiel strode forward. “Dean is exhausted. He will not easily make the walk. We will meet you on your front steps. He can sit outside for a few more minutes then, until you get there.” Giving no one a chance to argue, the angel gently gripped Dean’s arm and flew him to the steps of the building Bobby had indicated.

He guided Dean over to the swing on the porch, helping him sit down, and pointed out Bobby in the distance. “I’m sorry. I know you want to be by your friend, but I thought it best to get you away from the crowd who is unsure of you and me. And you would have passed out about halfway here if I’d let you walk that far. Your welfare is my priority and I’ll do what is necessary to see you are safe and protected from anyone, be them human or demon or even yourself.”

Castiel knelt down by Dean. “I know you do not trust me. I understand it will take time. I also know you think I am reading your mind. I am not able to do that. I can read your emotions and I have some idea as to what you have been through to help me judge what you might be thinking. I can hear your thoughts if you choose to share them with me, as if you were praying. If you focus with your mind on my name, Castiel, I will be able to hear what you specifically say to me then and only then. I can be great distances from you but if you focus, I should still be able to hear you.”

* * *

Before Dean could nod again when Bobby indicated where they were going his muscles went ridged with tension when one of the spectators watching the show protested. He couldn’t really blame the man. If Dean had been in his place he probably would have felt the exact same way. It was stupid and suicidal to just trust anyone showing up on their doorstep out of the blue, even with a so-called angel in tow. Especially with all the time Dean had spent among the demons…

And if the man had been in _his_ place he would have understood that after all Dean had been through the threat of being put through ‘tests’ where cutting was involved was a good way for someone to get hurt and it wasn’t going to be Dean. Bobby immediately jumped to his defense, which Dean was grateful for beyond measure. Even though he still didn’t enjoy the thought he could probably endure it if Bobby was the one. Unfortunately many of the others gathered around didn’t look all that convinced or willing to compromise.

Once the angel stepped in however the argument became a moot point. One second Dean was standing there surrounded by a distrustful, and potentially hostile, crowd. The next moment it felt like the wind had been knocked out of him once again and he was standing on the porch of the home Bobby had indicated from a distance before.

Dean blinked, stunned. Tense didn’t even begin to describe what he was feeling when he realized Bobby wasn’t standing next to him anymore. Like the man had disappeared, or like he never existed at all, and almost causing Dean to panic. He didn’t relax much when the angel standing next to him pointed out his friend out in the distance.

What the fuck!

The glare he threw at the angel in response to his apology was scathing, but probably wasn’t very effective considering the angel’s hand gripping his arm was the only thing really keeping him steady right now. Dean didn’t resist when the other man led him over to the swing either to sit down. Mostly because right now he really needed to sit the fuck down. Even if the guy did have a point and he was glad not to be surrounded anymore Dean also didn’t like being yanked around without even a warning. Not to mention the terror he felt at being away from Bobby.

When the angel knelt down in front of him, Dean leaned back in the porch swing, uncomfortable to say the least with the angel’s proximity. No, he didn’t trust the angel. If that’s what he was. After the years of abuse he’d suffered at the demons hands, not to mention from his own _brother_ , he wasn’t going to trust this… thing… in front of him, that had shown up out of the blue claiming to be an angel. His own fucking guardian angel. Dean might have started laughing hysterically at the thought if he wasn’t afraid he might not be able to stop.

Though the other man’s reassurances that he couldn’t actually read his mind were somewhat comforting. After what Sam had done to him, how the younger man had gotten into his mind and forced him to do things… Ok, it was a lot comforting. If the guy was telling the truth. He could be lying, but Dean had a feeling he wasn’t. The things the angel was telling him were too fucking insane to be lies. That he could hear Dean if he _prayed_ to him?

Frowning a little Dean ‘prayed’ the first thing that came to mind.

_Castiel… you’re a dick._

Just to test if he’d get a reaction.

* * *

Dean was there one moment and then gone the next. No. No. _NO! No one was going to take that boy away again. Not after Bobby had just gotten him back_. Looking around wildly, he saw two figures on his porch steps, one in flannel, the other in a tan trenchcoat. He turned to the crowd.

"You chuckleheads just stay back for now. We've seen that…thing's…wings. We've seen how fast it can move. We know angels are real and on Earth. Maybe this Castiel is an angel and maybe he ain't, but iffen he is, do you really wanna piss him off? And iffen he ain't, we'll need a plan to deal with him because he sure as hell is a might bit powerful."

"What about your so-called 'friend?'" one of the crowd asked.

"Dean," Bobby said.

"Yeah, _Winchester_ , same as the leader of the damned army!"

"If he's gone darkside like his brother, I'll kill him myself," Bobby growled.

"What if he's Croatoan? Wouldn't take anything to turn you, and then us. Wipe us out."

Folding his arms across his chest Bobby glared stubbornly at them. "Since when have the demons been subtle since they took over? If they found us, we'd have an army down on us and you know it. I'm gonna go see my friend, I'm gonna get him some dinner and a beer. I'll give him holy water, try a bit of silver and cold iron, do an exorcism, everything. Iffen he gives off even a hint of sulfur, I'll put him down myself because he wouldn't want that any more than any a you would want that to be your end."

"If this goes wrong, Bobby…."

"Shut your yap, Rufus. If this goes wrong you'll get to put me down right along side him, all right? Now all of you, go back to your posts or your homes or the Mess or where ever. Dean don't need all you staring at him. Go. I'll give a report of what I've found out once Dean's fallen asleep. About Dean and this Castiel. Rufus why don't you make yerself useful for a change and see if you can find any listing of an angel named Castiel."

After a final glare at them, he turned and began a light jog toward his home.

*

Tilting his head, Castiel's cool blue gaze studied Dean. "I do not understand. What is a 'dick?'"

* * *

When the angel didn’t react to his ‘thoughts’ Dean figured Castiel was just fucking with him about the whole praying thing. Either that or Dean had done it wrong, because the other man didn’t even twitch at the insult.

Then the angel’s question hit him like a truck. Dean’s eyes grew large and his jaw dropped.

_Holy fucking shit!_

Dean stood up, a little too quickly based on the wave of dizziness that accompanied the action, backing away from the angel a little bit. At the moment Castiel was way too close for comfort and with this new revelation on top of everything else he really needed the distance.

He’d heard him. He’d actually fucking heard his thoughts. The idea of this thing being able to read his thoughts was bad enough, but to actually have it confirmed? To know that this so called angel could probably do to him what Sam had done… Maybe even more considering even though Sam had gotten into his mind, controlled his actions, the younger man hadn’t actually been able to read his thoughts. Or maybe Sam had and he just hadn’t cared…

Dean turned away from the questioning gaze, gripping the porch banister and tried to will his thundering heartbeat to slow down.

* * *

Castiel frowned when Dean looked surprised and stood, moving away from him. The fear rolled off of Dean in waves. It was obvious in the way he was standing, in the white knuckled grip he had on the railing, the way he paled, and the rapid beat of his heart.

Standing himself, he moved to Dean's side. "Please, Dean sit."

Castiel gently coaxed Dean's hands free of the rail and carefully helped Dean sit again. He covered Dean's hands with his own, removing the splinters he had gotten in them from the picnic table that his death grip kept pushing in deeper.

Releasing Dean's hands, Castiel stood and backed away a few steps. "I do not understand. Speaking to me in this fashion frightens you? Why? I told you, if you pray, calling my name, I can hear you. You did this. I heard you. Now I can only sense fear and concern. I have frightened you and that was not my intent, nor do I fully understand why it frightens you. I am here only to protect. If you do not wish to speak to me, that is your choice, the gift our Father gave to you. Free will." Castiel turned away from Dean. "I will stand here and wait until you are ready to go inside. You need have no other interaction with me until then."

He looked out across the brown and green landscape and saw Bobby was headed their way, the rest of the group staying back. He was glad. Humans could be unfathomable at times and he would just as soon deal with two rather than a group. He did not wish to harm anyone, but he would do what he had to in order to follow his orders.

*

Bobby saw Dean stand and waved at him. The boy should be sitting down. Apparently the angel thought so too and made Dean sit back down. Dean needed to be taken inside dammit, gotten a coat or blanket, and at least some socks on those bare feet of his. As if Dean wasn't weak enough already. He didn't need to catch a cold on top of everything else.

Bobby took the steps two at a time and gave Castiel a glare. "Don't you go popping anywhere with him, without me, got it?"

"You needed to remain there and talk to the others, convincing them to leave Dean be. And Dean needed to sit down," Castiel said evenly, obviously unperturbed by Bobby's anger.

"Damned feathered idget," Bobby muttered under his breath. "C'mon Dean, let's get you inside, next to a warm fire, get you a blanket, some socks, some stew, and most important of all, some cold beer. Or whiskey. Or coffee. Or whatever the hell you want. You can come back out after you eat and get warmed up." He offered Dean a hand up, giving the angel a warning look, clearly telling him he had Dean this time.

* * *

Dean shook his head when Castiel approached him. He didn’t want the angel near him right now but he couldn’t concentrate enough to ‘tell’ the other man to stay back. He stiffened when the angel touched him, gripping the railing even tighter for a moment before the other man managed to gently pry his hands away. Telling him to sit down, and Dean did so, not really having much of a choice otherwise.

He stared down at his hands. It was easier looking at them than at Castiel’s face right now. The hands that covered his own were warm, a sharp contrast to his own chilled fingers. Dean hadn’t even noticed the faint pain from the splinters in his fingers, it was such a minor hurt, until it was removed. When the angel finally released his hands and stepped away from him, Dean’s heart rate began to slow and he finally looked up. Though he found it very difficult to meet the other man’s eyes.

Castiel looked confused. Dean wondered if he was faking it or if he really didn’t understand. He already knew that Dean didn’t trust him. But he didn’t seem to understand why. Either the concept of lying was lost on him or he was just a really good actor.

Dean didn’t believe for one second that this angel was here to _protect_ him. Not without a price at any rate. Even Sam had healed him, treated him almost gently at first. Until Dean had refused to pay the price. Until Dean had resisted. If his own brother could do the things to him that Sam had, what was stopping Castiel from doing the same if Dean didn’t do what he wanted?

Free will… Dean snorted softly at the thought. He hadn’t had a will of his own in years. Azazel had seen to that. Then Sam… Dean’s hand lifted to the scar that ran around his throat. A deal. A contract. Sam. His brother turned into a monster. Who didn’t even recognize him. Who’d tortured and raped him… again and again…

He was still in chains, they’d just been passed from one master to another. First Azazel. Then Sam. Now Castiel it seemed.

Dean dropped his hand and looked up when he heard Bobby’s voice. He felt himself starting to relax again in spite of everything just having Bobby nearby. Even if there wasn’t a damned thing the older man could do to protect him if the shit hit the fan it was still nice to know that Bobby still had his back. At least someone did.

When Bobby offered to take him inside, Dean nodded. A beer… the last beer he’d had Sam had given him. Maybe the harder stuff would be better right now. Yeah, getting drunk right now sounded really fucking appealing. So he took the older hunter’s hand and let Bobby help pull him back to his feat and steady him when Dean got wobbly. He took one last look at the campground and the forest beyond before he let Bobby lead him inside.

* * *

Dean was a little…okay, a lot shaky on his feet, but Bobby stood by to catch him. "The place ain't much and people are in and out all the time cause it's the library."

He swept his hand around indicating the small cluttered cabin. It was practically a one room place with a loft. There was a beat up table stacked with copies made from old books. There was a chalkboard behind it and several bookshelves and filing cabinets in the room. Maps were tacked up on most walls with red and blue and black 'Xs' here and there. The cabin had a fireplace, a small fire smoldering away, wood and coal stacked up beside the hearth. There was a small kitchen area with a sink that had a hand pump for the faucet. Oil lanterns hung in a few places and there were several candles, all unlit at the moment. There was a couch and some chairs here and there, and the windows were covered with thick pale green drapes.

"Well, actually, people ain't in and out as much as they used to be. Several people have combed through these books and dug out about all we can." He helped Dean settle down on the couch and pulled the coffee table a little closer to him. He noticed Castiel followed them in and after a moment walked over to the bookshelves. "Most cabins are shared by several people, but right now, ain't no one but me in this one. We try to keep supply usage low by keeping people clustered together but people need their space too, so we sorta rotate out here and there to give people some privacy. We all pretty much eat at the mess hall. Got us two doctors. One is an old retired country doctor and another is a fancy surgeon. Ain't no running water 'cept for that pump. We got community outhouses, and once a week, we heat up water for showers. There's a stream where clothes get washed. People go hunting for game for food, and we have stockpiles of various supplies and foods and things." Bobby brought Dean over a lap-sized chalkboard and set it on the coffee table with some chunks of chalk and a bandana for erasing.

"Let me get you some water and let's get this testing out of the way. Holy water, salt. There's a silver dagger there if you wanna give yourself a small cut to prove you can touch silver and cutting you doesn't do anything special. That small bar is cold iron, you just gotta hold it against your arm for about thirty seconds. And I have do a short exorcism, just to make sure. Need a witness too. Rufus'll raise a stink if it ain't done by the rules. Lemme get one of the others, then the water and salt and we'll get this over with. You want a beer or something right now?" Bobby glanced over at the supposed angel. "And you Castiel. You want something?"

"I need no food, drink, or sleep. I will read through some of your books while you do what you need to. I know Dean would prefer I keep my distance."

* * *

Library huh? Well, some things never changed. That was more comforting than Dean could have ever believed. In fact, the place didn’t look all that different from what Dean remembered of Bobby’s old place.

Dean felt a sharp twist in his chest realizing that Bobby’s home was probably nothing more than a heap of rubble now. Bobby’s old house had been one of the very few constants in his and Sam’s life growing up. It had been like a refuge, for both their father and them. It had been a home… and now it was gone. Lost. Just like everything else.

Closing his eyes for a moment Dean swallowed back the pain and forced back the tears. They would accomplish nothing. He was just over emotional right now, to say the least. It wasn’t like it was anything he didn’t already know. Azazel, and then Sam, had taken great pleasure in telling him how the world was going down the shitter. How the demons were destroying everything in their path, killing millions, enslaving the rest, and basically turning the world into a living hell.

This place… was like the fucking Ritz compared to the shit hole that Dean had been living in the last five years. He gave Bobby a grateful nod when the other man helped him to the couch, glad to be off of his feet. He’d only been awake for a few minutes really since he’d come to and already he felt like he could fall asleep again any second. That was the last thing Dean wanted right now, however, for several reasons.

When Bobby brought over the slate Dean picked it up, examining it as the older man went on about doing the tests on him and Dean barely resisted making a face. Yeah, best to get them over with. He knew they were necessary and he’d already been given a hell of a lot of leniency putting them off this long. That didn’t mean he had to like it.

At the older man’s question of whether he wanted anything, Dean picked up a stick of chalk and wrote on the board in his hand. It was a hell of a lot easier to write now that his hand was fixed. He turned it so Bobby could see it when he was done.

_Whiskey?_

Dean looked at Castiel and frowned a little at the angel’s response to Bobby’s offer. Was he trying to make him feel guilty or something? Much to Dean’s displeasure it was kind of working.

* * *

"One whiskey, coming up." Bobby walked into the kitchen and opened a cupboard that was filled with a wide array of food supplies, bottles, herbs and other spell components. He pulled down a bottle of whiskey that was about three-quarters full and poured Dean a good two fingers or more of whiskey into a glass. He poured himself a single shot.

"Whiskey's gotta be 'neat.' No ice until winter comes. We got an ice machine at the mess, but it's for special occasions, mostly." He returned to Dean's side and handed him the glass. He held up his own in toast. "To your safe return and to beating the demons back to Hell."

Gently knocking his glass to Dean's he then tossed the shot back. "Now you take your time and enjoy that." He gave Dean's shoulder a light squeeze. "I'll go get us a witness. Just stay put." He picked up a blanket off a chair and set it beside Dean, then tossed a few logs and chunks of coal onto the fire.

"I'll be back in five or less," Bobby said. He stood there a moment and just stared at Dean, his eyes filled with emotion. After giving Dean a smile and nod, he headed back out the front door.

Castiel had settled at the desk and was reading over some old religious documents. He shook his head at some of the annotations made in the margins. He wondered if he should correct the erroneous translations and assumptions made. Perhaps he would if Bobby Singer wanted him to. He glanced up at Dean.

"When you are ready for sleep, if you would like, I can cause you to fall into a deep restful slumber where there will be no nightmares to disturb you. You need only ask," he said.

* * *

Dean took the glass of whiskey gratefully from Bobby, certainly not giving a shit about the lack of ice. He probably would have refused it anyway if Bobby had offered ice to him. Ice only got in the way of the alcohol in Dean’s opinion.

After the older man’s toast Dean took long a drink from his glass. Coughing a little at the burn as the strong alcohol went down his throat but right now it was probably the best-damned thing Dean had tasted in his entire life. Bobby had brought out the good stuff for him, apparently. Though Dean wouldn’t have really cared if it tasted like the watered down piss he remembered from countless dive bars he’d visited while on the road as a hunter. As long as it got him completely plastered, that’s all Dean cared about right now.

Dean nodded to the older man as he left, though once Bobby was out of sight he drained his glass rather quickly. The rush of warmth from the potent liquor pooling in his stomach warming him better than the fireplace.

Pushing himself up from the couch with a little bit of difficulty Dean made his way over to the counter where the older man had left the bottle and poured himself another glass. He wasn’t going to be an ass and drink all of Bobby’s good liquor, considering the stuff was probably worth more than gold these days. But since Dean figured his alcohol tolerance was probably shit right now, if he had an extra glass or two before the older man got back, it wouldn’t matter.

He drained most of that glass and refilled it before he made his way carefully back over to the couch. Castiel's ‘offer’ made Dean scowl, and when he sat down he picked up his slate once again, wrote out a quick sentence, and showed it to the angel with a glare.

_Stay out of my head._

* * *

Castiel had watched wordlessly as Dean quickly swallowed down a few more glassfuls after Bobby had left. He did not understand the attraction of alcohol, but then, alcohol did not have any effect on angels.

At Dean's response to his offer, Castiel tilted his head slightly and stared at Dean a moment. "I have no interest in seeing what is in your mind, even if I were able. I can only see what you choose to share. I am capable of entering your dreams and talking with you in your dreams, but again, I am not able to read your mind or change your dreams. To cause you to sleep without nightmares would not involve me doing anything more than placing two fingers to your forehead and causing you to fall asleep. There would be no invasion of your mind." He returned his attention to the book. "My orders are to protect you, nothing more, but I was offering my aid if you desired it."

*  
Bobby jogged next door, wanting to get the tests over and done with, to prove to himself and everyone else that Dean was indeed Dean. If those demon bastards had down all this to trick them…hell, they weren't that important, Bobby thought with a snort. But then there was that supposed angel. He ought to do the tests on him as well. If he didn't like it, tough shit. Still if it wasn't really Dean Bobby thought he might just…just sit down and drink himself stupid for a week. Forget this day ever happened. Tell himself over and over it was just a nightmare until he finally believed it.

"Ellen, need you to witness a test of humanity," Bobby said, pounding on the door. He waited impatiently and pounded on it again.

Finally, Ellen Harvelle opened the door. "Bobby Singer, what have I told you about raising a racket at my door." It was obvious that Bobby had woken her up, he hair was in disarray and she was yawning.

"To only do it if I mean it," Bobby said. "Well, I mean it. Need your help. Dean Winchester…he might be alive and back, and sitting in my house drinking my whiskey with a damned angel at his side."

"Dean…?" she said, her eyes going distant a moment as she remembered when the two brothers first showed up at her bar. "All right. But you better have some coffee brewing for me."

* * *

Dean’s glare intensified at the angel’s answer, and he had to resist mentally ‘praying’ several very un-holy curses at the guy. But the last thing Dean wanted to do was encourage the guy or _invite_ the angel into his thoughts.

He didn’t know whether or not Castiel was mocking him or he really was that obtuse. But having the angel repeat the same ‘reassurances’ over and over to him sure as hell didn’t make Dean believe him.

The guy had fucking heard his thoughts once. What the hell was to stop him from doing more than that? His word? Dean didn’t believe him and he sure as hell didn’t trust the guy. Why should he? Just because Castiel had healed him? Well, so had Sam, right before he went another round of raping and torturing him. So he should just take the man, or angel, or whatever the hell he was, at his word?

Well, sorry, Dean was way beyond blindly trusting someone just because they _claimed_ they were here to protect him.

Though that thought did give Dean a pause. Why hadn’t he told the angel to get lost yet if he really didn’t trust the guy as far as he could throw him? Because he’d already seen what the angel could do? Whatever the guy was he was super powerful. If he could heal him in one touch he could probably kill him in one too, not to mention everyone else here, including Bobby. Or he could just zap Dean away, maybe give him back to the demons, if he was uncooperative.

Just those few possible threats, and Dean knew if he tried he could probably come up with a thousand more, were enough to turn his blood to ice. So Dean wasn’t ready to attempt to shrug off the new chains bounding him yet. But if Castiel was giving him a ‘choice’ whether to do something or not, Dean was going to choose the NOT. Especially when it involved agreeing to let the angel put him into a coma or something which Dean might not be able to wake up from without the guy’s say so.

So Dean erased a few of the words on the chalkboard, and rephrased his refusal. Throwing the chalk at the angel’s head to get his attention.

_Don’t mess with my head._

* * *

Castiel's hand shot out, catching the chalk the human launched at him, and slowly turned his head to look at the man. Annoyance showed clearly on Dean's face. He read Dean's message and gave a soft, slightly frustrated sigh. "Putting you into a deep slumber has the same effect as smiting your head with a stone, without the associated pain or damage. It would not 'mess with your head.' You would awaken normally within eight hours or so, well rested, unless some noise woke you sooner."

Tossing the chalk back at Dean, he returned his focus to the book. "I will repeat again, I will do nothing unless you ask it of me or failure on my part to act might endanger your well being. There is no need to glare or make faces at me. It accomplishes nothing."

*  
Bobby gave a nod. "I can start a pot of coffee."

Ellen grabbed her coat and stepped into her boots, pausing long enough to tie them. "An angel and Dean Winchester. So where's Dean been all this time?"

Bobby looked away from her. "Don't rightly know but if I had to guess, I'd say Hell, based on the condition he was in 'fore that angel healed him up. He can't talk, scars across his throat and the angel said it was part of some deal. Probably some deal Sam made with that yellow-eyed demon Azazel. I haven't really had a chance to talk with Dean. He seems still a little confused and off his game, not that I blame him if he's been in Hell and then ripped out of there by some angel healed up and tossed on our doorstep. Or…it might not be Dean…"

"Let's hope for the best and expect the worst," Ellen said and grabbed her shotgun that sat by the door.

She followed Bobby back to his place, walking up the stairs, staying on her guard just in case this angel-Dean thing was nothing more than a set up.

* * *

Dean felt a flicker of nervousness settle in his stomach when the angel, who didn’t look like he had been paying much attention to him, easily caught the small projectile launched at him without even looking. The speed in which the other man moved shouldn't have surprised Dean, considering all he’d already seen the man do. He already knew the thing across the room wasn’t human. It was powerful, and he was as helpless against it as he’d been against the demons that’d kept him in chains. But yet another example of just how fast, just how strong, this thing was sure as hell didn’t comfort him right now.

He swallowed hard when Castiel compared his offer to ‘put him to sleep’ with bludgeoning him in the head with a rock. Yeah _that_ was a comforting image.

The angel’s comment about him ‘making faces’ at him only pissed Dean off more and he had the insane urge to throw something else at the other man. Something a lot bigger and heavier than a stupid piece of chalk. But Dean knew that desire was nothing more than bravado at this point. His anger at the thing across the room fed by fear, and stubbornness, not courage. Much like it had been when dealing with Sam. But somehow standing up to Sam, even when the younger man was in the middle of raping or torturing him, had been easier.

He didn’t want to go back… he couldn’t… he’d rather slit his own throat than go back. Dean had no idea why he was ‘rescued’ just that it was certainly not out of charity. All the hundreds of other slaves in that awful pit to choose from and he was the only one rescued? No, this thing, or whoever had gotten him out, wanted something from him. It was ‘protecting’ him for a reason. And he didn’t want to risk pissing this thing off enough to send him back. He couldn’t…

So instead of answering the angel in any way, Dean turned away from him to stare at the wall instead. Trying his best to ignore the other man’s presence, though he couldn’t seem to relax his white knuckled grip on the glass in his hand.

At least until a noise outside had Dean tensing even more and his eyes shooting back to the door.

* * *

Bobby entered the small cabin first and saw that Dean was right where he'd left him and nothing seemed out of place or moved, except that his bottle of whiskey was a little more empty than it had been when he'd left. Dean looked upset, maybe even distraught. His gaze shifted to the angel who was watching them all very carefully. He wondered if that 'angel' could be a demon and had Dean under his control. Well, that 'angel' was gonna go through the exact same tests Dean was. If that angel continued to upset Dean, then he'd damned well figure a way to get rid of the thing.

"Dean, you remember Ellen Harvelle? From the Roadhouse?" Bobby asked.

Ellen stepped forward and studied the young man. The changes she could see in him, the way he hunched over a little, the dullness in his eyes, the drawn look of his face. The boy had aged ten years or more it looked like. At least on the inside. He was still a handsome young man all the same. She glanced over at the angel who was watching her with cold calculating eyes, keeping a very close eye on her and the gun she held. She squashed the urge to lift the gun muzzle and put several holes in the stranger. Instead she focused on Dean.

"It's good to see you, Dean," she said, giving him a kind smile. "Sorry we have to do this, but we have to be sure."

Bobby sat down next to Dean and saw the death grip Dean had on the glass of whiskey. "You want some more whiskey before we start?"

* * *

Dean relaxed slightly when Bobby opened the door. Just seeing the older hunter was enough to put him at ease, or at least ease him back from panic mode. But nothing could have really prepared the young man for seeing who followed the older hunter in. He was so stunned he barely managed a slight nod at Bobby's question.

Of course he remembered Ellen. He just never expected to see her alive again. Bobby? That was surprising enough. Even if the man was as tough to kill as a New York cockroach on steroids. But Dean never imagined seeing someone else he knew from… before… alive. Then again, Bobby had mentioned Ash hadn't he? What about Jo? Was she here too? Dean was almost afraid to 'ask', afraid if the answer was no. He'd rather hear it from someone else rather than ask.

Briefly Dean wondered if this was some kind of dream or hallucination after all. Did he really care if it was? If it meant seeing Bobby and Ellen… and maybe others? Would Sam come walking in next? Not the sick twisted demon fuck Sam Dean now knew so well, but his brother Sam, telling him it had all been some kind of mistake, all a bad dream, and Dean would gladly believe it. He would believe it if it meant he could stay here and not wake up…

Dean blinked as though coming out of a trance, his gaze shifting to Bobby, realizing that the man must have said something and was waiting for him to answer. But damned if Dean knew what it had been.

When the older man's eyes glanced down at the glass in his hand, Dean's gaze followed and he forced himself to relax his white knuckled grip before he broke it. Raising the glass to his lips he drained the rest of the liquor, then handed the glass over to the older man since Bobby was still looking at him expectantly.

The older man didn't say anything about his 'lapse' just got up and refilled Dean's glass, which Dean took with a grateful nod. Nothing like liquid courage to get through a stressful situation.

Then it was time for the tests. The easy ones came first. A shot of holy water mixed with salt. Holding a crucifix, a piece of iron, a few other holy symbols. The exorcism came next, which was easy on Dean since he only had to sit through it and drink while he listened. When Dean saw the silver knife his heart rate shot up a little but Bobby handed it to him, letting him cut himself, which made it slightly easier.

Lastly Bobby collected some of his blood in a vial from the cut Dean had made in his palm, so they could put it under a microscope later to check for sulfur and shit. When it was all over Dean found he was relieved more than he realized. Not just because the tests were over but because he'd passed. After all the time he'd spent in the demons hands he hadn't realized how afraid he was that he'd been… tainted.

* * *

Bobby was more relieved that he could say that everything went without a hitch. Dean was really Dean, not a bit of demon in him. Well, the microscope would be the final tell, but he felt pretty certain all the same that it was Dean. He squeezed Dean's shoulder and smiled broadly at him.

"Welcome back, Dean. I'll get you a proper cot and blankets, and we'll go through the supplies and get you some clothes and shoes and a coat, and as soon as the council approves, a gun and knife. We got five of us on the council. Go through the monster tests every time before we meet. Everyone in camp gets tested once a week, or if they leave camp fer huntin' or the like, they're tested 'fore we let them back in. That's why there was such a fuss about you. Those practices have kept us alive and our camp secret."

Ellen stood and moved to Dean's side. She leaned over and gave him a quick hug and kiss on the cheek. "You need anything, I'm right next door, Sweety. And I still watch over the liquor supplies." She gave him a wink then straightened and turned her attention on the angel. "All right, buster, you're next."

Castiel tilted his head. "My name is Castiel. Not Buster. My wings are not proof enough?"

"I didn't see your wings," Ellen said. "We have a hard time believing in angels what with your kind being scarce while we're getting our asses kicked."

Castiel stood up. "We fight against them, as do you. This is not the way the Apocalypse was foretold. We do not understand why our Father has permitted this to happen. Some of us have likened it to the Great Flood and believe a purging must be necessary. The righteous will survive. We have no other answers to the same questions you ask."

He stepped around the desk and continued speaking, glancing at each human in turn. "Gabriel was making an effort to kill Sam Winchester, as we believed him to be the ruler of the demons. We have since learned two powerful demons hide behind him. His death would likely impact little and Gabriel's attempt failed, uncertain how powerful Sam was at the time. The other demons must first be destroyed. It was during Gabriel's escape that he encountered Dean Winchester. Knowing Dean was Sam's brother, he rescued him."

"Why?" Bobby asked, placing himself between Dean and the angel and folding his arms across his chest. "You ain't using Dean as no barter in your games."

Castiel's eyebrows lifted. "Gabriel thought he might be useful at some point. The rest concurred and I was ordered to guard him. I am not privy to the plans of the arch-angels or God. I obey."

"You don't take him nowhere without talking to us, you got that winged-wonder?" Bobby said. "I don't care if God himself is breathing down your neck, you talk to us first, you tell us what's going on or you can just fly your feathered butt out of here right now."

After a moment of hesitation Castiel gave a partial shrug. "I will keep you informed as I may. That is the most I can promise. Dean will have a say in whatever they may desire from him. We can not go against free will. I am certain if the angels have plans for him, it is to help defeat the demons."

"Yeah. Free will," Ellen snorted.

"Let us complete these tests so that you may focus on Dean. He needs food and sleep." Castiel said, seeing no point in arguing the point any further with the humans. Humans were stubborn. He'd seen this for himself over the centuries.

* * *

Dean managed to offer the older man a slight smile as Bobby welcomed him back and went on to give him an orientation of sorts on how things were run in the camp. He nodded in understanding, even approving of the methods, though Dean couldn’t help but think they were a bit of a waste. If a demon or other creature did run into the camp it probably wouldn’t waste time playing spy, it would just kill everyone. But if it made everyone feel a little bit safer, who was he to argue?

Ellen’s hug was a bit unexpected but at least Dean managed not to flinch away at her touch even though it made him more than a little uncomfortable. Not that it came as much of a surprise to Dean. The idea he would ever actually feel _comfortable_ with anyone touching him ever again was laughable. But Dean appreciated her gesture nonetheless. A small laugh escaping his lips when she mentioned the liquor supplies.

Bobby and his library. Ellen and her bar. Yeah, something about it was just comforting despite the hell hole the world had become.

Though when Ellen turned on the ‘angel’ and ordered him to go through the tests as well, Dean was more than a bit surprised. Not that they wanted proof whether the guy was an angel or not. Dean wouldn’t mind that either. But just having the balls to ask for it. Maybe it shouldn’t surprise him though. It was Ellen after all. Just because Dean had pretty much been neutered after all his time in the demons hands didn’t mean everyone else had.

All the talk about purging humanity, and the confirmation that the so called angels had busted him out so they could use him somehow sure as hell didn’t make Dean feel any better about the situation. Yes, he’d already guessed they hadn’t rescued him out of pity and that Castiel was more his jailer than his protector, but hearing it confirmed so matter-of-factly…

While Dean really appreciated Bobby standing up for him, everyone in the room knew it was just bravado. There wasn’t a god-damned thing the older man could do to stop Castiel and the other angels from doing exactly what they wanted with him. Even talk of free will just made Dean echo Ellen’s snort of disbelief. There were all kinds of ways to make someone do something ‘of their own free will’ as Dean had learned well.

Dean was too tired to argue about it now however. Hell, even if he wasn’t, what was the point? It was easier to pretend, if for the moment, that he had a choice and that he was safe. It was better than waiting for the ax to fall, since there was nothing anyone could do to stop it.

* * *

Castiel went through the tests stoically. After they were completed he returned to reading, essentially dismissing Ellen and Bobby's presence.

Ellen gave Dean a smile. "You look more whupped than a hunter on a bad day. I'll leave you be, but I'll be checking back on you, making sure Bobby's taking care of you good and proper." Ellen glanced at Bobby. "You need anything?"

Glancing at Dean he told her, "More whiskey next chance you get. I was gonna go to the mess to get him something to eat…"

"I'll get it and rustle up some clothes for him. You stay here. I think he appreciates a friendly, familiar face." Ellen gave Dean one more fond smile then glared at the angel before heading out.

Bobby brought the whiskey bottle over for Dean, along with a roll and a small piece of cheese. "Eat a little something before you pour any more of that down your gullet. I'm gonna pull out a cot. You think about where you want it set up. I sleep up in the loft, and there's plenty of room for a second cot up there. I could put it by the fire, or over by the window—" Seeing Dean's gaze shift to the window Bobby nodded. "Right. Window it is. Usually at night we close the inside shutters. Gets pretty cold in here otherwise, but I think we can burn a little extra coal and use a few extra blankets for a night or two and leave one shutter open for you. Just don't be going outside without proper clothes. Don't take long to get frostbite."

* * *

Dean couldn’t really say if he was relieved or not when Castiel went through the tests without incident. They already knew he wasn’t human. They already knew he was super powerful. Just because the tests proved he wasn’t a demon did it make any difference? Not really, when the angel just admitted the only reason he was rescued was so they could hang him out later like a worm on a hook.

But since the angel seemed intent on ignoring them Dean decided to do the same for now. He gave Ellen a grateful smile before she left. Again Dean felt the urge to ask about Jo but he was just too afraid of the answer. He would be overjoyed to hear she was alive too, but he didn’t think he could deal with hearing she was dead, so he’d rather not know. Not now at least. Maybe in a couple days when he felt he had his feet under him a little more.

Dean couldn’t deny he was a little surprised when the older man brought the bottle of liquor over to him. Not that Dean was complaining. It wasn’t like he _wanted_ to listen to a lecture or anything, but he would have expected Bobby to try to get him to take it easy on his booze rather than encourage him. Then again, this was a ‘special occasion’ he supposed. That, and the world wasn’t the same world anymore. The old rules just didn’t apply anymore.

He already had a pretty good buzz going at that point and his stomach was grumbling enough at the sight of the simple piece of cheese and bread Dean didn’t put up a fight when Bobby wanted him to eat a little before drinking anymore. Dean had no idea when he last ate. Days? A week? He nibbled carefully on the food. Not sure how much he’d actually be able to eat or how much he’d be able to keep down. His stomach was so damned used to throwing up everything that was almost literally shoved down it.

It was… easier than he would have realized communicating with the older man when he couldn’t say a fucking word. Even though Dean had been mute for more than five years it wasn’t as though the demons were interested in his opinion. Neither had Sam been… Dean shut off that line of thinking abruptly. He was going to just stop thinking about Sam, god damn it. Maybe Bobby just knew him too well. When Bobby agreed to set his bed up by the window, Dean felt like hugging the man. The cold probably wouldn’t bother Dean at all. It didn’t bother him now, even though his feet were still bare. But Dean nodded anyway at the older man’s caution.

Dean ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it out of his eyes, and a thought occurred to him. He looked at the older man, watching as he set up Dean’s bed, then waved to Bobby to get his attention once he’d finished. Then Dean tugged on a few strands of his too long hair and made a scissoring motion with his fingers.

* * *

Bobby chuckled at Dean. "And here I thought you were working on becoming a new-age hippie or something. Your hair might even be long enough to give you a short ponytail."

At the look Dean was giving him Bobby only laughed harder. "Watch your mouth Boy. I can hear you cussing me out from here. Move your butt to a stool." He waved at a couple rickety stools near a workbench. Disappearing into the bathroom, he returned with a comb, scissors, towel, and a small square mirror that was obviously a signal mirror from some camping kit. Walking over, he set everything but the comb down. That he took over to bucket, scooped out a cup of water and sprinkled it across the comb. He walked back to Dean's side with the cup of rainwater and a damp comb.

"So, you want me to play barber, or do you think you're sober enough to not cut off your ear."

With the wave Dean gave him, Bobby nodded and wrapped the towel around Dean's neck. He carefully ran the damp comb through Dean's hair, wetting the comb more as needed. Bobby began clipping Dean's hair shorter and shorter, not wanting to cut off too much all at once and screw it up. After about ten minutes of circling Dean and fussing over his hair, clipping stray strands he missed here and there, he finally gave a nod and set aside the scissors and comb. "Now that's a haircut even John would approve of. You want the sides shorter or is it good?" he asked, handing Dean the mirror.

Seeing Dean seemed satisfied, he dried off the scissors then took the towel from Dean's neck and brushed off any stray clippings he saw. "People are going to want to know where you've been, what you've seen. I'll get you a notebook and pencil and you can write down any god-damned story you want, but when you're ready, I'd like to hear the truth. Don't need the nitty-gritty. Just the basics of what happened after that demon bastard knocked me into next Tuesday and where you been. Course, if you've seen anything or heard anything that might help us fight 'em, that would be good too."

He gave a slight huff at the look in Dean's eyes. "Yeah, I know. It's a losing battle, but I'll be damned if I'll go down without fighting them until my last breath. I'll take as many of those sons-of-bitches with me as I can in the process."

With a soft voice Castiel interjected, "Gabriel relocated some of the camps on the maps and re-ordered demon patrols where he could. I don't know if they know about this camp, but if they did, it is likely now identified as the wrong place on the master maps. At least, it might buy you a bit of warning if they decided to attack."

Staring at the angel Bobby shook his head. "I wouldn't have expected that. Didn't think you dicks thought beyond your own superiority complexes."

Castiel looked up at Bobby, then at Dean and back to Bobby. "There is that word again. Dick. What does it mean?"

"Jerk. Asshole. Pain in the ass. Self righteous bastard," the old hunter said evenly.

The angel seemed to file away the information with a slight acknowledgement and returned to reading.

Bobby rolled his eyes, then looked down at Dean. "So, Ellen will probably be back with food for you any minute. Let's put you back on the couch, you can eat, drink, then I think you ought to get a few hours of shut-eye."

* * *

At Bobby’s hippie comment Dean glared at the older man. Then he glared even harder when the other man told him to ‘watch his mouth’. Unfortunately the effect was rather ruined by the grin that kept trying to tug at his lips at the same time. Because he _was_ cursing a blue streak at the other man in his head. Damn the man… and god bless him.

Bobby had absolutely no idea what it meant to him just to be treated… normal. Like Dean was still the same man he’d been before the world almost literally went to hell in a hand basket. Before he’d become Azazel’s favorite plaything. Before his brother turned into the evil thing his father had warned him about.

Recently Dean had begun to doubt that man, that life, had ever really existed. That maybe all of it had been nothing more than a hallucination. His life in the dungeons feeling like all he’d ever known as his old life faded further and further away, only remembered in half forgotten dreams. Maybe it had all been a lie created by his tortured mind to escape in. Maybe it wasn’t that Sam had forgotten him, maybe he never _was_ Dean’s brother.

True, there was still a slim chance that none of this was real either. It was frightening not knowing what was real and what wasn’t. But that fear was fading further and further into the back of his mind the longer he was here. It was the little things. The details that Dean didn’t think his broken mind could have conjured up even if he tried. Like the feel of the wind on his face when he’d been outside. Or the bitterness of the salt he’d been forced to swallow staying in the back of his throat even after several sips of whiskey later. The sound of Bobby’s laugh…

As the older man made his way into the other room Dean got up, swaying a little, in weakness or drunkenness, or both. But he managed to make it to the stool without falling over something and breaking his head open, or falling off the stool when he sat down. When Bobby returned with the stuff he’d need and asked him whether he wanted to do it or not, Dean gave the other man the go ahead, because Bobby was right. Dean wasn’t sure it was a good idea for him to be using sharp objects right now. He might cut off something he shouldn’t.

The haircut seemed to take a lot longer than it should have, though that might only be because Dean was used to it just being sheered off all at once. When Bobby finished and handed him the mirror to take a look, Dean couldn’t help but agree with the older man’s sentiment. The young man ran his fingers through his much shorter hair, tried to make a fist in it and failed, and Dean finally nodded in approval.

He handed back the mirror, waiting while Bobby started cleaning up, but avoided the older man’s eyes. Dean had only just gotten out of that hell pit. The last thing he wanted to do was relive the last five years of his tortured life on paper just to satisfy the curiosity of those people out there. He’d been a fucking prisoner. He didn’t know shit. Or maybe he did. Demons liked to brag. Alistair, Asazel, and even Sam liked to tell him just how well the demon’s war against humanity was going for them. The places they’d destroyed or were going to destroy. Maybe what was common knowledge among the demon ranks wasn’t so well known among the humans. It kind of made him wish he’d paid more attention while Sam was dragging him around like a dog on a leash.

But even if what he knew could bee deemed ‘useful’ Dean seriously doubted it would make any difference in the grand scheme of things. Bobby must have seen his opinion in his eyes when he finally threw a glance at the older man. Going down fighting… yeah that was definitely Bobby. That used to be Dean too. It was easy to say that when there was an end in sight. When death was an option. For Dean there had been no end and there were so many things worse than death.

Dean pretty much ignored the exchange between the hunter and the angel. Staring off into space again and only snapping out of it when he felt Bobby’s hand land on his shoulder. The young man tensed for a moment before he relaxed and nodded before allowing Bobby to lead him back to the couch.

* * *

Bobby made sure Dean made it back to the sofa, helping to steady him when he wavered a bit. After settling him down, he poured Dean a little more whiskey, then went into the kitchen and started gathering silverware and glass of cool fresh water for him.

"You know I'd have you hoarse by now with talking to me if you could," Bobby said. "If you want, I can fill you in on things that have happened since you disappeared, but most of them ain't exactly a ray of sunshine. We've had our moments where we kicked those demon bastards back into hell, though." Bobby brought the items over and set them down in front of Dean. He hadn't much more than done that than the door opened and Ellen walked in with a covered tray.

"Stew for dinner, kind of almost more soup than stew. Deer, rabbit, mushrooms, carrots, onions, bit of wine. Flatbread and butter. Denny is cooking tonight, so it's good stuff. They ain't really serving dinner yet, but for me, he let me dip in early." Ellen pulled the towel off the tray and set the bowl in front of Dean, taking the plate with the bread and butter off the top of it, putting it beside the bowl." She cocked her head. "Well look at that. He went and got himself a haircut already. Can tell Bobby did the cutting. That man can't cut anything straight."

Bobby began to protest and he and Ellen got into what was obviously an old 'fight,' tossing good-natured barbs back and forth.

* * *

Dean was grateful to be sitting back down on the couch where he felt a little more stable. Sitting on the stool he felt like he could slip off any minute, landing on his ass, and making an embarrassment of himself. Even if he could have explained the clumsiness away on liquor and general weakness, and Bobby probably wouldn’t have teased him… too much… he’d still rather avoid it.

So it was good to be back on solid ground, so to speak. Slumping back against the old lumpy couch cushions Dean watched tiredly Bobby moving around in the kitchen while he sipped at the fresh glass of whiskey the other man brought him. He never thought he would be glad for his handicap but when the older man admitted that he’d be grilling him about what had happened if Dean could talk he was.

He did _not_ want to talk to Bobby, or anyone for that matter, about what had happened to him. Dean might never be able to forget what had been done to him in there but he sure as hell didn’t want to go sharing it either.

The young man shook his head a little at Bobby’s offer to fill him in on events, wincing slightly and rubbing his forehead a little as though to ease an ache deep in his skull. He’d heard enough about what had been going on outside the demon stronghold from the lips of demons. Dean didn’t think he could deal with hearing the other side of the story right now.

He was grateful when Ellen chose that moment to return with his food, giving Bobby someone else to focus on. The stew, soup, whatever, smelled pretty good and Dean’s stomach growled pitifully. He’d managed to hold down a few bites of the roll and cheese Bobby had given him and Dean hoped he’d have the same luck with the stew.

As he set down the glass of whiskey he’d been nursing he was glad no one seemed to notice how his hands were shaking. While he listened to Ellen and Bobby 'fight’ Dean couldn’t contain the smile that pulled at his lips. Though after listening to them for a while he couldn’t help arching an eyebrow in curiosity.

Were Bobby and Ellen…?

Dean glanced at his chalkboard, but decided to focus on his food instead. He’d ‘ask’ Bobby later. Ellen might just smack him upside the head and tell him to mind his own business if he asked now. So Dean picked up his spoon and started in on the soup. Or at least he tried to. He frowned at the way his hand shook, sloshing most of the spoon’s contents right back into the bowl. Why the hell was he shaking so bad? He must be more tired than he realized.

Putting down the spoon and picking up the piece of bread instead, Dean tore off a piece and dipped it into the broth before eating it. It was pretty good, and he’d probably be full by the time he finished the bread anyway.

* * *

Castiel sat quietly reading, though in truth he had but to look at the page and know its contents. He took his time though, preferring to be unnoticed. He was long accustomed to being hidden to the eyes of humans but he knew the young man would not appreciate him disappearing from view while still being present in the room. He watched Dean discretely, watching as his hand shook so badly he couldn't keep the food on it. Even as he used the flat bread to soak up some of the broth, his hand still trembled. The young man was exhausted, the alcohol hadn't helped, and the man was still overwhelmed by it all, at least so Castiel suspected.

He listened to Bobby and Ellen bickering about things that he considered nonsensical, but it seemed to amuse Dean, and the two were not really fighting. There was no venom in their words so he felt no need to intervene. Anything to put Dean at ease. It was surely hard on the young man to have been in the clutches of Hell for so long and then suddenly thrust back into the world of man, the world where the Apocalypse had and the angels were not winning. The world of man was becoming the world of demon-kind, and God seemed indifferent to the path it was taking. Castiel did not understand for he knew his Father loved all his children, but why then was he letting the world fall? Castiel was a mere soldier, it was not his to question, but to obey, and so he reminded himself his only concern was to protect this young man until told otherwise.

He rose gracefully to his feet and walked over to Dean, reaching out for Dean's shoulder. The young man jerked away.

"I will give you a bit more strength, enough to get you through until it is time to sleep."

Bobby and Ellen had both fallen silent, suddenly reminded the angel who had been sitting in the shadows was there.

"Dean," Bobby said softly and gave a slight nod. "Let him. Get yourself fed, then you can brush your teeth and take a couple vitamins, and we'll get you put down to sleep by the window. You can look out the window until you're ready to fall asleep. I got a tape recorder, can put in a tape of music for you if you want. It'll run about thirty minutes on a charge.

"I did not mean to startle you," Castiel said to Dean. "Please, let me offer you this."

* * *

That angel was too damned quiet. Sure Dean had been a bit distracted by the food and listening to Bobby and Ellen argue good-naturedly but there hadn’t been creak in the chair when the angel stood, or even the rustle of clothing when the man came to stand next to him. In fact, Dean had almost forgotten about him entirely until he was suddenly _right there_.

The touch to his shoulder, light though it was, practically scaring the shit out of him and Dean jerked away reflexively, nearly falling off the couch. His heart rate practically tripling as his hands curled automatically into fists. Fight or flight… Right now the young man was prepared to do both.

Bobby’s voice snapped him out of his automatic panic mode from being touched unexpectedly and without his consent. Recognizing the angel standing next to him and recognizing the guy was not a threat to him… at least for the time being… Even though it didn’t really make Dean relax and he still eyed the other man distrustfully.

Dean’s eyes flickered briefly over to Bobby when the older man encouraged him to let the angel do his thing. He didn’t want to. It reminded him too damned much of when Sam had done the same thing. Giving him strength, energy, healing him, or whatever, just so he would be more ‘fun’ to the younger man. Just before Sam went about breaking him again…

He turned his attention back to the angel. His hard expression still not relaxing despite the man’s unexpected apology but he finally gave Castiel a barely perceivable nod.

* * *

Castiel rested his hand lightly on Dean's shoulder, feeling the fear, the anger all wound up inside the man. As he provided Dean the energy to have the strength to eat, to get around for probably an hour, he offered up feelings of peace and comfort. Dean had told him to 'stay out of his head' so he did not force them upon Dean.  
  
He released Dean's shoulder. "That should last long enough for you to eat, tend to what you need to and get settled to sleep. I offer you the peace of the Grace of our Lord if you so choose it. It would ease your mind, perhaps offer you some measure of comfort, but as you asked me not to invade your mind in any fashion, I have merely placed it there, made it available for you to accept or deny. The choice is yours. It might be a salve to your heart and mind and help you rest. If you do not wish to accept it, it will fade within a minute or two and be gone. I will leave you to eat in peace or with your friends."

Castiel gave Dean a small smile, a slight nod, then returned to the shadows, to the desk.

Bobby watched Castiel return to his desk then focused on Dean. "Have to say, you don't look quite so pale. Now you eat while you're feeling up to it. I'll get out the tape player and some tapes for you to look through." He glanced at Ellen. "When Dean wakes up in the morning, I'll come get you. If Dean's up to it, we'll eat in the mess for breakfast."

Ellen gave Dean a fond smile. "You need anything, you just let me know. I'll see you tomorrow. It's good to have you back, Dean." With a final look at Bobby, she headed out the door.

* * *

As soon as he gave his consent Dean felt a slight rush of warmth spread through him and the effects of the angel’s touch was immediate. His head cleared and he felt steadier, both physically and mentally. His hands stopped shaking and the bone deep weariness that had been weighing him down lifted. But despite how Dean felt better than he had in… longer than he could remember… it still left the young man feeling uneasy. Each display of power only reinforcing how helpless he was against this… thing. As helpless as he’d been against the demons. Sam…

Castiel’s ‘offer’ reminding Dean all too clearly of the first and only time Sam had forced his will upon him. Turning him into a mindless puppet. Making him enjoy all the twisted things the younger man was doing to him. Dean closed his eyes briefly as a shiver of disgust swept through him.

He didn’t know why Sam had only done it the one time, considering the younger man had enjoyed the results so much. Maybe it had to do with Dean trying to kill himself afterwards. Pissing Sam off enough the young man decided to change tactics, breaking him slowly the old fashioned way.

Dean cursed angrily at himself, sighing heavily as he turned his attention back to his meal. Why the fuck couldn’t he stop thinking about Sam? It wasn’t like he _wanted_ to remember all of this shit. But even now that he was out of that hell hole he couldn’t stop thinking about it. Reliving the worst of it…

It didn’t matter. The last thing Dean wanted or needed was another all powerful asshole manipulating him into thinking and feeling things that weren’t his own thoughts and feelings. Yeah, his head was fucked up to hell, but at least it was still his own mind. Broken. Abused. Barely holding onto what little shreds of sanity he had left. But definitely his own mind.

Dean looked up when Bobby spoke to him and gave the older man a slight nod. Also giving one to Ellen before she left. Noticing the look that passed between his two friends before she left again Dean felt the urge to ask if Ellen and Bobby were an item now. But despite the newfound energy that had been leant to him Dean’s dark thoughts pretty much ruined any ideas socializing right now.

So he took Bobby’s advice and returned to his meal. Having a much easier time of it at least and he even managed to finish almost half of the soup and bread before he felt too full to eat another bite. He felt kind of bad for leaving so much, he got the sense from Bobby supplies were pretty limited. He didn’t want it to go to waste but he didn’t want to make himself sick either.

Bobby was still off rummaging through the house somewhere, looking for the tapes he’d promised Dean probably. The young man glanced over at the angel still sitting in the shadows. After a moment of thought Dean snapped his fingers to get the angel’s attention. Once he had he picked up his slate and wrote something on it before showing it to Castiel.

_Do you want this?_

Dean pointed at the leftover soup and bread for emphasis.

* * *

Castiel looked up when Dean snapped his fingers. He read the words and glanced at the bowl of food. "Thank you, Dean, but I do not need to eat or drink. My essence nourishes this body. The need for food, drink, procreation, life, death, sleep, free will, those were all things God granted to you, his most treasured creations, not us, his soldiers. I realize it is not always a gift for you. I have seen the times it was and the times is wasn't. It was once explained to me that for humans to have access to the good, to experience it and appreciate it, the bad must exist." He gave a slight shrug. "Would you like some assistance to tend to your preparations for sleep? You need only ask. I can not say how steady you will be on your feet."

Bobby came out of a small room, grinning triumphantly. "Knew I had kept 'em." Bobby set a tape recorder on the table in front of Dean along with a box of tapes. Dean's tapes from the Impala. "If you don't wanna listen to these, I got some other stuff I can dig out. Don't know if this'll cheer you up or not, but they're here if you want 'em," Bobby said. Looking at the box he gave a shrug. "I guess I always hoped you'd…you'd show up one day and I knew you'd want them. Didn't want to leave them out in the car in the heat and cold. Took me almost a year to find a tape player and then set it up for a hand charger for the batteries. I mean, you know, I got tapes too, like I said. So weren't just for you." Bobby stared at Dean, just seeming to soak in his presence.

Shaking himself out of staring at the young man he saw Dean had eaten more than he expected of dinner. "You done?" he asked, waving at the meal. With Dean's nod, Bobby pulled it close to himself then paused. "You, angel, you eat?"

"My name is Castiel. No, I do not."

With a soft snort, Bobby dug into the remainder of the meal. He didn't want to leave Dean alone just so he could go to the mess. He knew Ellen had gotten extra, for that very reason. "Damn, that Denny can cook a fine meal," he said between mouthfuls.

* * *

Dean frowned a little when the angel started going all Jesus freak on him. A simple ‘no, thank you’ would have been enough. He pretty much tuned the angel out after the guy started going on about humans being God’s most treasured creations. Dean snorted a little at that, barely resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Instead leaning back against the couch cushions and looking away as he sipped at the remains of the liquor in his glass.

He decided to go back to ignoring the angel, though he did shake his head slightly at Castiel’s offer to help him get ready for bed or whatever. He could make it just fine on his own. He’d done a whole lot more than brush his friggen teeth and take a piss with a whole lot less energy than he had now. What was the angel going to do? Hold it for him?

Dean snorted again at that thought, amused in spite of himself. Maybe he was more drunk than he thought.

He looked up when Bobby returned and placed the tape recorder and box on the table in front of him, but he froze, barely breathing, when he saw the contents. Even knowing that Bobby had saved the Impala after all this time. Even the older man’s warning he was going to look for some music for him to listen to. It had not really prepared him for seeing the box of cassette tapes. _His_ box of tapes.

His heart was pounding so hard in his ears he couldn’t even hear the exchange between Bobby and the angel. Much like the bass of his favorite songs when he turned the volume up so loud you could _feel_ it. Singing loud and off key, Sam sitting in the passenger seat next to him sometimes rolling his eyes, other times singing right along. ACDC, Metallica, the greatest hits of mullet rock as his brother had once called it. Many of the tapes mixed tapes he’d made himself, their contents hastily scribbled and barely legible now but still recognizable. Also recognizable were his father’s tapes, he hadn’t listened to those quite as much, not wanting to wear them out. Some of them had even been ruined but he’d kept them anyway. Simply unable to throw anything away that bore his father’s familiar bold scrawl. Then there were Sam’s tapes. The ones he’d almost unwillingly added to his collection box, that he sometimes let Sam listen to when his brother was driving or when Dean was in a certain mood.

Dean watched as his hand reached out. Hovering over the tapes but unable to touch them. Unable to confirm they were real. Just reading the all too familiar labels were enough. Long forgotten memories pounding against the walls of his brain, practically his whole life flashing before his eyes, contained in this one little box. His vision started to blur and he didn’t even realize he was crying until the first choked sob left his throat. He hadn’t realized how tenuously he’d been clinging to his calm façade until it crumbled completely.

* * *

Bobby watched Dean, not quite sure how Dean would react. The Dean he remembered would be grinning from ear to ear, shaking his hand, thanks and gratitude shining in his eyes. This Dean…this one practically crumbled before his eyes. Bobby knew the sort of memories Dean attached to those tapes. He'd listened to them all the time. Hell, some of them were John's tapes, long past useable at this point Bobby was certain, but still for as long as Dean could probably remember, they were a part of his life. He wasn't sure if they'd bring Dean comfort or not, but if there was even a slim chance they would, he'd had to try.

Quickly pushing the food away, Bobby moved next to Dean and put an arm around his shoulder. "Yer home, Dean. I know it ain't Singer Salvage. I know you're missing half of yourself, but you got family here. Me and Ellen and, well, Jo ain't here, but she'll likely be back in a month or so. You got people who love you, you hear me, Boy? Yer the closest thing I ever had to a son, and I'm proud of you. I can't imagine what you've been through, don't rightly want to, but you made it outta there alive. You've had a pretty god-damned big day and you gotta be just shaken to your core. I'm here for you, Boy, will be here for you as long as I can. You hold on to me all you want or need to."

* * *

Dean buried his face in his hands, shaking uncontrollably due to the sobs wracking him. When he felt the strong comforting arm wrap around him he didn’t try to pull away. Needing the contact. Needing something to ground him, to hold him together, while he felt like he was falling apart.

Home… he didn’t even know what that meant anymore. Family… that concept was probably even more foreign. Bobby, Ellen, and… Jo… She was alive too. An answer to one of the questions he’d been too afraid to ask. Yes, he was glad, but it didn’t make him feel any better. It only seemed to open the gaping wound in his heart wider. His friends, but not his family… his family was lost.

The young man almost scoffed when Bobby told him he was _proud_ of him. He knew Bobby believed it, but Dean wasn’t the same man anymore. No, Bobby didn’t know what he’d been through and he was never going to tell the older man. He wondered if Bobby had any idea what had been done to him, what Dean had done, how Dean had failed, if the older man could still tell him that honestly. That he was proud of him…

His own father was probably cursing him from hell for all of Dean’s failures. How Dean had allowed this to happen. How he’d allowed Sam to become what he had. He had failed his family. Utterly.

What good was his life? His whole life was one big failure. Whatever the angels had rescued him for, whatever they wanted from him, to be bait, or cannon fodder, or whatever. What right did he have to refuse? After what he’d done. After what he’d allowed to happen. After the whole world had burned all because of his failure…

Slowly Dean forced himself to pull together. Even with Bobby’s offer to help support him he felt like he didn’t have the right. The young man wiped at his eyes as he pulled away from the other man slowly. Once more reaching for his slate, his hands shaking again for a different reason as he wrote two words.

_Thank you_. He meant them, he really did, but he was too ashamed to look at Bobby, and too emotional to look at the box of tapes as he slowly rose from the couch. Heading towards the bathroom Bobby had pointed out to him before. Needing a moment alone.

* * *

Castiel discreetly watched the interactions between Bobby and Dean. He listened to what was said, studied the looks passed, and tried to understand the emotions of the young man. The young man was so broken and lost. He felt completely worthless and ashamed. There were other emotions interwoven in there, but Castiel wouldn't be able to understand them unless he looked inside Dean's head to see what the young man was thinking. He wanted to, but he had told Dean he wouldn't, so he didn't.

He could feel the pain Bobby felt at seeing Dean like that and he didn't understand why Bobby didn't pursue him when Dean went to the other room. His attention shifted from Dean to Bobby.

"I don't understand," Castiel said quietly. "Those items in the box. He was both happy and sad to see them. He cried but he thanked you. They upset him yet they gave him a bit of comfort."

Bobby stood up, watching after Dean before he finally turned and picked up the box of tapes. He walked them to the closet and put them on the top shelf. "It's complicated. It's a human thing," Bobby told the angel. "They've always been a part of his life. I dunno. Maybe they sort of define him, define his family. His family is gone. John in Hell, giving up his life and soul to save Dean, and Sam…Sam pretty much doing the same god-damned thing. His family, both in Hell to save him. I hoped maybe they'd remind him of good times. Maybe they will, eventually."

The angel gave a thoughtful nod. "Some human souls escaped when the gates to Hell were opened and the army released. It is possible his father was among those, unless he had already become a demon. I will inquire about the man, if you believe it would help.

"Demon? Whattaya mean demon?" Bobby sputtered. "John Winchester ain't no demon.

"Demons are the twisted souls of humans who no longer recall who they were in life. They know nothing but pain and torture until pain and anger and hurt is all that is left of them. Lucifer made the first demon aeons ago. Lilith." Castiel gave a slight shrug.

Bobby's jaw tightened. "Yeah, find out, but you tell me first and I'll tell Dean if I think it'll do him good. Understand?"

"Yes. I do not know when I will next speak to my brothers or sisters, but I will send an inquiry as soon as feasible. I do not wish to draw attention to us and the demons often lie in wait for angelic activity."

"Fine, whatever," Bobby said, sitting down and starting back in on the meal, his gaze often worriedly flicking to the bathroom door.

* * *

Dean closed the bathroom door behind him but he didn't bother looking for a light. He'd lived in almost complete darkness for most of the last five years of his life, he wouldn't need it to find his way around. Plus, he really didn't want to look in the mirror right now. He didn't think he could stand the sight of his own reflection without putting a fist through the glass.

Closing the toilet lid, Dean sat down because unfortunately the angel was right and he wasn't all that steady on his feet right now. He closed his eyes and just concentrated on breathing. Trying to forget. Just like he had so many times before when the torture became too intense. When the pain became too much. When the hopelessness was crushing what little humanity he had left. When shutting down was the only option, or madness.

Alone now, in the dark, in the quiet, just like in his cell, it was easy to find that place. How twisted was that? Memories, both good and bad, started to slip away, broken pieces scattering and blowing away like dead leaves. Returning to the void where they belonged. That life was dead. That world was dead. Those memories no longer mattered.

Now was all that mattered and now… now he was tired. Fuck brushing his teeth and shit. But he knew if he didn't at least take a piss now he was going to be regretting it in the morning, especially with all the whiskey he'd drunk.

So Dean forced himself to stand up and take care of his business. At least when he finally opened the bathroom door again he wasn't shaking with emotion, or on the verge of bursting into tears, like before. He noticed right away that the box of tapes were gone, like maybe he'd only imagined it in the first place, and not knowing what to feel about that Dean decided he wouldn't feel anything.

Bobby's eyes were on him again practically the moment he stepped out of the bathroom and Dean gave the older man a half-hearted wave to let him know he was fine. Pointing to the cot Bobby had set up for him and heading that way.

* * *

Bobby was definitely relieved when Dean finally came out of the bathroom. The boy looked wiped out, and like someone had killed his best friend _and_ his puppy. He saw Dean's indication he was going to crash. Bobby nodded and got to his feet. He pulled an old red plastic milk crate over by Dean's cot and laid the chalkboard on it.

"Found you a whistle," Bobby said holding up an old metal whistle on a ratty old shoe-string. "Iffen you need me or need to get my attention, all you gotta do is give this a toot. Well, you can probably whistle anyhow, can't you? It'll make me feel better though, you having it. It can be pretty loud. There's your slate for writing on and I'll get a cup of water for you in case you wake up thirsty. I'll get you a lighter and a candle in case you want some light, or gotta take a piss in the middle of the night. Get's pretty dark in here with the windows all closed up. Even if we leave one shutter open for you, still gets pretty dark once the fire dies down to just embers. I'll set a couple more blankets in reach for you, case you get cold."

Bobby made himself busy getting the things he promised, and threw a couple pieces of coal onto the fire. He brought over a Hostess chocolate cupcake two-pack and set it on the make shift table for Dean along with a plastic bottle filled with water. "Case you get hungry or thirtsty. We'll get you some proper junk food tomorrow. Potato chips or pretzels or something. You need anything else?" Bobby asked as he shut one of the shutters on the window, but left the other one open. He glanced back at Dean.

* * *

Dean sat down on the edge of the cot, watching as Bobby fussed over him. Bringing over his chalk board and… a whistle huh? He hadn’t thought of that. It was a pretty good idea since it wasn’t like he could yell for help or anything. He honestly wasn’t sure if he could whistle by himself anymore. He probably could, but it wasn’t as though he’d tried in years. Not much to fucking whistle about in the demons dungeon. There it was usually best when you _didn’t_ try to get their attention. But maybe he would try… later… when he was alone or something.

He picked up the old whistle, examining it while Bobby made good on his word collecting everything he thought Dean would need. The older man was going all out. Fussing over him like a mother hen, bringing him water, a snack, a candle, and blankets. A part of him wanted to tell the other man it wasn’t necessary, that Bobby didn’t have to do all this, go out of his way for him. Dean appreciated it, sure, but he didn’t want to be a burden to the older man.

But then again, it seemed to make Bobby happy to fuss over him and he didn’t want to hurt the older man’s feelings. So he just gave his friend a smile that he didn’t really feel and shook his head when Bobby asked him if he needed anything else.

Dean laid down on the cot, pulling the blankets over him and glanced out the window Bobby had left open for him. It was still light enough he could see part of the camp and the woods beyond. He probably wouldn’t be able to see much when darkness fell so he might as well enjoy it while he could.

But Dean found his attention shifting to the angel that still sat in the dark corner where Bobby’s desk was. Reading god knows what. Pretty much ignoring them, or at least pretending to. He wondered what the angel would do if they asked him to leave. Would he? Dean didn’t trust the guy as far as he could throw him, but he supposed having him around could be useful. For now. As long as his orders were still to protect him, and hopefully his friends by extension.

Dean turned back to the window, the proof that he was free, at least for now. Exhaustion pulling at him but he resisted actually closing his eyes for a long time. Until he finally could resist no more and fell into a troubled sleep.

* * *

By the time Dean finally fell asleep, Bobby had gone up to his loft and gone to bed himself, giving Castiel a hesitant "Good night" before turning off the lights. The lack of light made no difference to Castiel. He was still able to read, though mostly he was just reading bits and pieces as he let his mind wonder and wander as he often did while posted on Earth to watch over the humans. He could stand or sit motionless for hours or days or years. He had existed for so long that to remain motionless for a few days was but a blink of an eye for him.

He heard Dean begin to shift restlessly under his blankets and could sense the emotions coming from him. Fear, disgust, terror, pain…nightmares, the humans called them. Castiel did not sleep so he didn't fully grasp how a person could be so pulled into something that didn't exist. Of course there were those who could alter reality, make a human see exactly what they wanted them to see. He himself could be invisible to the humans if he chose to be.

Dean's breathing increased, hitching occasionally and he began to thrash in his cot. After a moment of hesitation, Castiel rose gracefully to his feet and strode over to Dean's cot. It was a simple matter to sit at the head of the bed and have Dean's head rest in his lap while he brushed his wings gently over the tortured man. He lightly stroked the man's hair and sang so softly as to almost make no sound, of the glories of God, of a beautiful and loving world, a place of peace and happiness that would someday be Dean's when his destiny was finished and he moved on to Heaven.

* * *

Dean had known it was foolish to believe that the pain was over. That he was free. That he was out. No matter how much ‘proof’ there had been. It was a lie. Just a dream. Just a foolish fantasy.   
  
Sure it had been different from the other times he’d gone ‘away’ in his head while the demons tortured him. While Sam hurt him and used him. When he’d dreamed and remembered his life before. Escaping to a world that simply didn’t exist anymore. Where they sat around campfires and ate marshmallows. Where they spent all day fishing and swimming in a lake behind their house. Where they drove down the highway in the Impala with the windows down and the music loud singing at the top of their lungs off key. . A world where he and Sam were still brothers.   
  
But Sam hadn’t been in that dream. Bobby. Ellen. Ash. Even Jo. They were all in that dream. But not Sam. Maybe that’s why he’d so easily believed it was true. Because in the perfect world he’d imagined before all this, Sam was still there, still Sam, still his brother. A brother who loved him. A brother who would die for him. A brother who Dean would die for.   
  
Now the dream was over. Now he was awake and now Sam was here. So happy to have his ‘pet’ back with him. Grinning happily while Dean writhed in pain. Laughing when Dean screamed. Sam’s hands covered in his blood when he touched Dean’s face almost tenderly. When he leaned in to kiss him…  
  
Dean writhed and twisted. Fighting against the bonds holding him even though he knew it was hopeless. He tried to fight the hands grabbing him, holding him down. He wanted to scream as Sam moved over him, ready to violate him again as he had before and he would again and again.   
  
But the pain Dean had been expecting never came. It took him a moment to realize that the screaming had stopped. That the pain had stopped. When he finally dared to open his eyes, Sam was gone. Everything was gone. There was only darkness. Not the cold. Not the void he was used to. But warm. Almost comforting. Like when his mother had wrapped him in a blanket and sang softly to him until he fell asleep. He swore he could hear her voice now even.  
  
 _Angels are watching over you._ She’d said it so often before kissing him good night. He had stopped believing it a long time ago. But as a strange feeling of comfort settled over him like he hadn’t felt in years he found himself believing it again, if only for a moment.


	4. Chapter 4

The battle had ended quickly after Sam had made his appearance, feeling fully wrathful. Unfortunately the angels quickly retreated once he appeared. It pleased him that they did, and the respect he saw in his armies' eyes pleased him even more. A few angels were captured alive and Sam bound their powers, their Grace, so they could not strike against the demons. With Alistair dead, a new head torturer would need to be assigned. He evaluated the work of many of Alistair's lieutenants, paying the closest attention to those he felt were more loyal to him than to his father, or those he could readily sway to support him. He finally chose one that he believed his father would be relatively pleased with and set him to work as the new Master of Torture.  


  
That done, he went to the Strategy Room and got reports from all his lieutenants as to exactly how the battle went down, blow by blow, from the beginning until the end. He  
Kept his face neutral through out all the reports but the fact the angels suddenly retreated told him the arch angel Gabriel had clearly escaped and informed them the Boy-King was not dead.

Azazel and Lilith both congratulated him in front of the troops which is some ways only pissed Sam off. He didn't need their fucking approval. When he left though, Azazel cornered him.

"Alistair is dead. You smell of his power," Azazel hissed.

"He let the arch-angel I brought him escape, and without even an extra guard on the arch angel to raise an alarm." He glared boldly back at Azazel. "The arch-angel made it all the way to my private quarters, killed my guards, and very nearly killed me. There's no telling what other trouble he may have wreaked that we're as yet unaware of because we have no idea when the winged freak escaped. I punished Alistair and since I was badly injured by the angel and could not let the troops see me in that condition, nor hope to battle in that condition, I drank Alistair dry." Sam tilted his head slightly and gave a soft, almost sweet smile. "So father, am I to be punished? Shall you undo everything I have so recently accomplished? All because you grew _emotionally attached_ to one of your servants?"

Azazel's eyes flashed and he gnashed his teeth, but turned and stalked away without a word.

Sam smirked and headed back to his quarters. Inside he found the three slaves comforting one another. So used to Dean's attempts at trying to kill himself when he was free or left unguarded, he was almost surprised. The two women and one man fell immediately silent when Sam entered the room and their eyes went to the floor, their heads bowed.

Sam stared at them a moment. If Dean had acted such a way, he would have rewarded him. He approached the woman whose hands were broken and gently took them in his own and healed her broken bones and torn skin.

"You I will grant a boon to," Sam told the young woman. She had, after all, saved his life, however unintentionally. The woman stared at him blankly. Sam gave a slightly irritated sigh. "A minor wish. What would you like?"

She bit her lip and stared at him, unsure. "I…I struck a bargain. My family was left untouched for a year. In exchange for my body and soul. Can…can you protect my family?"

_Family…_ whispered in his mind. Sam drew away the veil and looked at the contract written on her skin. With hardly an effort he changed the contract and looked inside her mind. He saw her family and where she came from. All of the town had struck a similar bargain. They gave up one family member from each household, and the rest were promised there would be no damage or more slaves taken for a year, assuming no one in the town went against the demonic caretakers. "Your soul is mine now, mine specifically. I will return you to your family and home. Those of your immediate blood will be protected so long as you live, provided they do not assault a demon, or your family in no way acts against demons and for rebels or angels. Agreed?"

The woman stared at him in shock and nodded mutely. Sam ran his fingers over her forehead and a black glyph appeared. "You will live many more years, assuming you keep your end of the bargain. If you and yours do not, I will see you soon." With a wave of his hand, she disappeared.

"Proper behavior around me is rewarded," Sam said. With barely a thought he unlocked their shackles. "You may both eat and shower and then we three shall rest. You may sleep unfettered if you continue to act as slaves should." He led them out to the table still laden with food and waved them to eat as there was a rap on the door. It was Ruby and he mentally told her to enter.

"I need two, no three, guards for my quarters. Round up a selection of those who you think would do well in such a role."

Ruby gave a curt nod. "I'll tend to it. I have news for you about your pet."

"Oh," Sam asked, pulling her further away from the two slaves. His heart rate jumped and he felt a sense of excitement. "What have you learned?"

"The arch angel took him when he escaped. Took him, battled through the ranks protecting him, and disappeared into the heights of Heaven with him. Your father is pissed beyond pissed. Especially pissed on top of you killing Alistair. You mother isn't exactly happy about it either."

"He's gone?" Sam asked, feeling like he had just been punched by an arch angel while a small part inside of him was jubilant Dean was rescued and free.

Ruby raised an eyebrow. "You _are_ attached to him."

"He's a tool, nothing more!" Sam snapped at her. "Find him. Put it out to all those who follow me and _only_ me, that I want my pet found and brought to me alive. Those who do this, and if my father does not find out, will be greatly rewarded. _Find me my pet, Ruby,_ Sam commanded her and turned away, to join the two slaves at his table. Yes, the three of them would shower together, he decided, as thoughts of his pet made his lust spike.

* * *

Dean awoke when the first rays of the sun started to shine in through the open shutters of the window he slept by. Blinking against the golden rays, his eyes immediately focused upon the spectacular shades of reds and oranges painting the sky. Snow had fallen again last night, covering the limbs of the pine trees surrounding the camp, and everything else for that matter, with a soft blanket of white. Ice crystals had formed on the window, creating a sort of kaleidoscope effect, only adding to the brilliance of the view.

He'd woken to a similar view almost every morning for the past two weeks, and it still hadn't gotten old. Honestly, Dean hoped it never would. After living in darkness for over five years, he would never take something as 'simple' as a sunrise for granted again.

Dean admired the view for a few more minutes, until the sun started to rise over the tops of the trees and the camp began to wake. Which meant he should be getting up as well, if he wanted breakfast.

As he pushed himself up from his cot the blankets covering him fell away from his bare chest and his skin immediately broke out into goose bumps. He shivered, noticing how his breath fogged a little in front of him when it left his lips. It had gotten damned cold during the night with the shutters of his window open. He looked up towards the loft where Bobby slept a little guiltily. The older man had been letting him sleep with the window open so he could look outside whenever he wanted and hadn't even mentioned closing them when it got cold. He was very grateful to Bobby for that, but sometimes it made him feel like he was taking advantage of his friend.

Bobby was practically bending over backwards trying to accommodate him. To make him feel as comfortable as possible. Handling him with kid gloves probably afraid Dean was going to have breakdown or worse. In all honesty, Dean was a little surprised he'd been handling the last couple of weeks so… well.

As far as he knew he hadn't had any nightmares for the last couple of weeks while he'd been here. Dean couldn't remember the last time he _didn't_ have nightmares. He probably shouldn't be looking a gift horse in the mouth, but it was a little strange. Strange or not, two weeks of good night's rests were really showing. The dark circles under his eyes were practically non-existent now. His appetite was returning and he was gaining weight. His stamina was improving by leaps and bounds. Just the fact that his body felt stronger his mind somehow felt less fragile as well.

That's not to say that Dean didn't have his bad days. He had plenty of them. Like the days he wouldn't let anyone get within a few feet of him much less actually touch him. Or when something Bobby said reminded him of the past and Dean would suddenly break down completely and it would take hours for him to calm down again. Then there was the one time where he'd become 'lost' in his head, he wasn't even sure what had set him off, but when he'd finally come out of it almost a day later Bobby had been completely freaked out, understandably.

But he liked to believe that those moments were becoming less and less, as he grew more accustomed to living… like a human being again. Or maybe he was just holding his breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Dean sighed heavily, running his fingers through his hair, before he pushed his bedding aside and stood up. As he stretched he looked around the room, but didn't immediately find the angel that had become something of a permanent fixture in Bobby's home. Castiel wasn't there all the time, but he was there most of the time. Bobby had put him to work translating texts since the angel seemed somewhat interested in it anyway and it was something useful for the angel to do other than sit there staring at them. Honestly Dean often forgot that the angel was even there he was so quiet. One time he had forgotten and Castiel had scared the life out of Dean when he'd come up behind him. He'd nearly shot the man. Not that it would have actually hurt the angel, but still. After cursing the angel out fluently in his head, before he realized what he was doing, he warned the man he was going to make him wear a bell if he ever did that again. Thankfully the angel hadn't.

He didn't know why he was almost smiling at the memory and frowned a little at himself. Well, it was better than wondering where the winged wonder had gotten off to, he supposed. Every time Castiel suddenly disappeared Dean worried he was going back to his angel buddies to get new orders or something regarding him. As of now they still had no idea what the angels had planned for him, and frankly Dean would like to keep it that way for as long as possible.

* * *

As he had done from that first night, Castiel sat at the head of Dean's bed, Dean"s head in his lap, soothing him whenever he began to dream. At first he had let the dreams start, but too quickly Dean became restless and agitated, so Castiel simply decided once the fragile young man fell asleep, he would soothe him throughout the night in an effort to give him some peace.

As Dean seemed very upset whenever anyone did anything to him without his permission, it seemed wisest to Castiel to not tell Dean what he was doing. He simply stayed invisible during the night. He watched now as Dean stared out the window at the beautiful sunrise. He could feel the joy it brought him and his own gaze followed the young man's. It was truly a beautiful sunrise. He was surprised by the disappointment he felt when Dean apparently decided it was time to rise. He tilted his head, watching as the young man was obviously looking for him and the slightest of smiles touched his lips. Castiel could tell Dean was thinking of him, was mildly amused about something, and wondered, as he often did, what Dean was thinking.

Since Dean rose, Castiel likewise got to his feet. He did a quick circuit of the camp, checking for signs of evil or signs of discovery or indications someone wished harm to Dean. Finding nothing out of the ordinary, he returned to Bobby's home, this time being visible and returned to the desk where he was translating texts for Bobby. He could have quickly translated everything Bobby wanted translated but he understood that the older man was trying to give Castiel something to do so Castiel's presence had more of an apparent purpose than watching over the Winchester boy. That being the case, he translated things slowly, letting his thoughts wander.

"Good Morning, Dean," Castiel said quietly as he settled at the desk. Bobby had told Castiel it was considered courteous to greet people when you first arrived. He didn't really see the point but he did as the human wished. "The camp is secure and all seems in order. Breakfast is bread soaked in milk and eggs and fried, along with some salted venison and they have just started serving it. They are also serving 'real Columbian coffee, none of that fucking instant stuff,'" Castiel said, mimicking the deeper voice of the cook. "It is Sunday and they have asked that I speak at the church this morning after breakfast. I am not certain what they wish for me to say, but I said I would. Will you attend while I speak and tell me if I did well?"

* * *

Dean tensed and looked up from where he was buttoning up one of the flannel shirts that Bobby had gotten for him when he heard Castiel’s voice. It still unnerved him a little the way the angel just popped in and out like that, but at least this time Dean had only jumped a little bit. The angel had even announced himself this time, which was better than turning around to find the angel suddenly there where the spot was previously empty, so the guy was learning. He gave the angel a halfhearted wave in response to his greeting before he went back to getting dressed.

He sat down on the edge of his cot to pull on his socks and boots as Castiel went on to tell him what was going on in camp. Dean couldn’t help but snort softly as the angel described what they were having for breakfast. French toast and bacon apparently, though the way the guy described it, it didn’t sound nearly as appetizing. At least this time it didn’t make Dean lose his appetite like the one time Castiel went on about the meatloaf…

Dean actually did laugh softly when the angel went on about the coffee. The guy probably didn’t have any idea what the hell he was talking about. But Dean was used to that by now. Usually he let Bobby explain crap to the angel because it would take too damned long for Dean to write it out.

He paused for a moment when he was done tying up his boots, marveling at how easy it was to get used to things after a while. Like having a friggen _angel_ hanging around constantly. Like all the things he’d gotten used to while being held in the demon’s dungeon… or when Sam had kept him locked up in his room, strapped to the rack…

Dean shoved aside that line of thinking before it lead to things that he really didn’t want to think about right now. He got up and grabbed his jacket off the back of a chair, pausing for a moment as he was shrugging it on when Castiel asked him if he’d go to church, of all things, and listen to him talk.

Honestly, Dean didn’t understand why the hell people still went to church anymore. Even before the world went to hell, almost literally, in a hand basket he didn’t get it. But he got it even less now. Now people _knew_ that demons were real. They knew was real. Angels and god were real… and it was also painfully obvious that god didn’t give a rats ass about what was happening here on earth. No amount of praying, or begging, was going to change that. God wasn’t going to save any of them.

Though he supposed he was a little curious just what the angel was going to say. Dean wasn’t all that sure what they wanted to hear either. If Castiel was going to feed all of them the same bullshit about god’s plan and whatnot. Was false hope better than no hope at all? But he was even more surprised that the angel wanted _him_ to let him know if he’d done well or not. Especially when Dean had always avoided going to church before and made it clear he did not want to attend the services held on Sunday in the camp. Why did his opinion matter to Castiel then?

Finally Dean gave the angel a slight nod. It wasn’t like he had anything else to do after breakfast. Dean grabbed the whistle Bobby had given him and shoved it in his pocket. Then he picked up his slate and chalk. He didn’t hear any movement from the loft above so he figured Bobby had already gone out before Dean woke up.

It wasn’t all that uncommon. Everyone pitched in around the camp where they could and Bobby was one hell of a hunter. A normal hunter, not just of the supernatural variety, and venison was pretty much a staple food in the camp. Maybe one day he’d ask Bobby to take him with him when he went out of camp. Dean hadn’t been given a job yet around the camp, wasn’t really expected to pitch in while he was recovering. But he was starting to feel restless and a little useless. He might not be much of a hunter anymore but he still wanted to do something. He’d talk to Bobby about it later, he’d probably see the older man sometime during breakfast.

As he headed for the door he felt a familiar uneasiness build inside of him. He felt it every time he went to leave Bobby’s cabin, especially without the older man, and it always confused him. He should be reveling in his newfound freedom, able to go almost wherever he pleased whenever he wanted. But going outside meant he’d have to interact with the other members of the camp and even though he’d come to know some of them by name, more by face, they still left him feeling uneasy.

Dean had flat out refused to go to the communal showers. He couldn’t stand being around others when he had all his clothes on, he’d probably freak out if he had to be around them naked. So instead Dean washed in Bobby’s small bathroom from a bucket of water drawn from the pump, not giving a shit that the water was ice cold this time of year.

He glanced over at the angel sitting at the desk. Castiel didn’t need to eat, but he also tended to follow Dean around like a lost puppy. Trying to guess what the angel was going to do was unpredictable at best. So Dean merely took out his slate and wrote on it.

_You coming?_

Dean would never admit that he might actually _want_ the angel to come with him.

* * *

Castiel was surprised and pleased that Dean would attend church. He had been reluctant to accept the request of speaking for many reasons, but prime among them was that his job was to guard Dean. His job was not offering words they could read in the bible, or convincing them of their faith or to tell them of what was to come. He knew little more than they did, after all. The words of the various prophets had been passed down, admittedly somewhat garbled at times, but the essence of it was there. Was this the End Times spoken of in Revelations? He suspected not. The Four Horsemen had not gathered. Lucifer had not been set free. That wasn't to say the situation couldn't change on the morrow, but he believed this was likely a test of faith and a culling of the unworthy, like had occurred many times in the past. Humans needed to once again prove they were worthy to rule Earth for so many had fallen from the ways of good.

He was a bit lost in his thoughts when Dean rose and held up the slate for him to read.

"Yes, I will come," Castiel said, climbing to his feet and joining Dean, stepping out into the bright if cold morning. Castiel paused and looked to the West. "There will be a large snowstorm this evening. It would be wise to bring extra supplies into the cabin."

As they passed people on their way to the mess, those of the camp greeted them. Bobby had told Castiel it was polite to acknowledge such greetings. Hesitantly, Castiel waved back and returned their greeting as best he could, usually by repeating back the greeting. He had learned it best not to use prior greetings he'd heard, such as "it's a fucking great morning, yeah?" to a young woman who was rather shy. The woman had seemed offended and Dean was definitely amused. It was all quite strange for Castiel. Angels didn't address each other in such ways.

He saw the woman Ellen was on the breakfast serving line and decided he best locate a seat for himself and Dean. But she had already spotted them. She handed some filled trays off and waved them forward.

"I will acquire seating…"

"You need to eat something," Ellen told him firmly. "One, it's rude not to eat when others are eating, two, that human body you're in could use some real food in it. Don't give me that crap that you don't eat."

"I have no need to eat. Why share limited supplies with one who does not need them?"

"Well that's just the way we crazy humans are, angel-boy. Here." She shoved a tray in his hands. It had just a small portion of food on it and some coffee.

Castiel looked at Dean for help, but plainly he was not getting himself involved in this. "As you wish," he sighed, and waited for Dean to point out how much he wanted and get his own tray.

Ellen gave Dean a wink. "Got us some real coffee this morning, so be sure to enjoy it. Even got a bit of cream and sugar…no, wait, you like your coffee black, don't you?" She handed him his tray. "There, go enjoy. You know, Molly thinks you're hot." She nodded toward a tall, blond well-endowed woman who was sitting with two other women. "If you want to get back in the saddle down the road. She's a good person, and skins a deer finer than any man here. Hard to believe she was some high society socialite in big business back in the day."

Castiel looked at Dean and then at the women Ellen pointed out to him. "Would you like to sit with them?" he asked. 

* * *

Dean zipped up his coat and shoved his hands into his pockets to keep them warm when they stepped outside. Snow crunched under his boots and the chill air all was the more biting because of the wind that blew through the camp. When Castiel gave him his ‘weather report’ Dean made a mental note to let Bobby know when he saw the older man. The angel hadn’t been wrong about the weather yet.

For the most part Dean kept his head down, not meeting the eyes of the people they passed on the way to the mess hall. Castiel greeted most of those who greeted them first, and Dean gave a few polite nods of acknowledgment but that was it. No one actually tried to engage them in conversation, and most in fact gave them a pretty wide berth.

Dean often wondered if that, along with the wary looks that were barely concealed by most, was something every newcomer experienced. Or if it was because Dean often had an angel in tow wherever he went…

Or because he shared the same name as the ‘Boy-King’…

The mess hall wasn’t that crowded yet since it was still rather early. Dean spotted Ellen right away and offered the woman a slight smile when she noticed them and waved them over. His smile turned to a grin of amusement when she started shoving food at Castiel and ordering the angel to eat despite the guy’s protests. When Castiel looked to him, Dean merely looked away, pouring some syrup over his French toast. No way he was going to argue with Ellen. He’d learned that lesson a long time ago.

Unsurprisingly the angel finally gave in and took the tray, and Dean hid his laugh by disguising it as a cough. His amusement died rather quickly however at Ellen’s attempts to hook him up. His… reaction… probably wasn’t what Ellen was expecting either. The ‘old’ him would have been ecstatic at the potential hook up with such a looker. But now he broke out in a cold sweat as something close to panic began to pool in his gut. For a moment he was afraid it showed clear as day on his face before he managed to school his expression to a more neutral one.

But of course Ellen couldn’t have known. Dean hadn’t told anyone what had really happened to him. He hadn’t even told Bobby. Just that he’d been held prisoner in the demon’s dungeons for the last five years. He didn’t go into the dirty details, and he never would.

When Castiel asked him if he wanted to sit with the women, Dean shook his head. Giving Ellen a forced smile, before he turned away and headed for a mostly empty table in the opposite direction. 

* * *

Feeling the stab of fear that hit Dean, Castiel's shadow-wings spread out in protection and his gaze darted about the room, looking for what had frightened Dean. Seeing Dean refuse his question of sitting with the women, in fact turn away from them and seek solitude as he usually did, Castiel relaxed. There was no danger here. Dean was upset from what had happened to him in Hell. Castiel saw the way Ellen's gaze followed after Dean, sadness touching her eyes.

After a moment of contemplation, he recalled things Bobby had said. "He is not yet ready to talk with strangers. He is still getting used to being around friends and not enemies," he told Ellen. He didn't want Ellen pursuing something that upset Dean so much.

That said, Castiel followed Dean's lead and added syrup to his 'meal' then trailed after Dean to the table Dean selected. He set the tray down and took his seat. He studied the meal then picked up a fork, holding it awkwardly. He watched Dean cut off a piece of the bread and Castiel made an effort to copy him. After another moment of hesitation he placed the food in his mouth and slowly chewed. He had always wondered what it was like to eat. He decided it was strange, sweet, a little sticky, and not unpleasant. It took him a minute to remember that after you chewed, you _swallowed._ Again. Strange. Seeing that Dean picked up the meat with his fingers, Castiel set aside the fork and followed suit.

He was surprised when a little dark-haired girl approached them. "Are you really an angel?" she asked shyly.

"Yes." Castiel said simply.

"Why didn't you say grace before you ate? Don't angels hafta say grace too?"

Castiel stared at her a moment. "My life is not dependent upon food as yours is. I do not have need to thank Our Father for food."

"Where are your wings? Mommy said angels have wings."

"You can not see them."

"How come?"

"Because my true form is too …powerful for most humans to see. I must conceal myself within this human vessel."

"But I wanna see—"

"Jessica!" a woman said, aghast. She dashed over to her daughter and grabbed her hand, looking nervously between Dean and Castiel. "Sorry. I'm sorry," she said, as if afraid Jessica or herself would be punished.

"You said angels were good. He's not like the ones with black eyes," Jessica protested softly. "He's nice."

"Don't bother the men. They're eating," was all the woman said, tugging the little girl along, glancing fearfully back once at Castiel and Dean.

Castiel watched the two a moment then returned his focus to eating.

* * *

Dean didn’t look up from his food when the angel came to sit with him. Castiel didn’t say anything about what had happened, and Dean didn’t offer any explanation. That was one thing he liked about the angel. He didn’t push. Didn’t ask him how he was feeling. Didn’t ask what he could do to make it ‘better’. Sometimes Dean wondered if it was because the angel simply didn’t understand humans enough to question. But whatever the reason, Dean was glad for it now.

If Bobby had been here, he probably would have said something about it. The older man hadn’t pushed him very hard, probably afraid that Dean would simply snap if he did. But he knew Bobby wanted to know what had happened to him. All of it. He knew Bobby only wanted to help him. He knew the older man wouldn’t judge him or think less of him because of what happened to him or what he’d been forced to do.

But he just couldn’t talk about it. Not now. Maybe not ever.

He’d done as Bobby had asked. He’d written in the notebook everything that he knew about what went on in the demon’s stronghold. Which admittedly wasn’t much given he was just a slave, a slave that had spent most of the last five years living in a dungeon. But he wrote about Azazel and Alistair, and everything he’d overheard them say that might be useful. He’d even written about Sam… that was the probably the hardest part, but he’d done it. Leaving out all the details of how he’d come to be in the younger man’s possession and what Sam had done to him of course. Then he’d given it all to Bobby so the man could give it to their headquarters to make of it what they could. But that the extent Dean was willing to share about the last five years of hell he’d endured. Now he wanted to spend the rest of his life just trying to forget it.

Dean looked up when he heard the child’s voice, and glanced at Castiel admittedly curious how the angel was going to answer the girl’s questions. He couldn’t help the flicker of amusement he felt when the child subtly admonished the angel for not saying grace. Castiel’s answer was even funnier, not really the answer itself but how long it took the angel to answer, like he was scrambling for one. One that didn’t make much sense to Dean anyway.

The moment was over rather quickly however when the child’s mother arrived, apologizing fearfully, and dragging the girl away. The smile slipped off Dean’s face instantly. He’d seen that look in the woman’s eyes before. The same look the slaves gave to their demon masters. Terrified.

Dean put down his fork and pushed his plate away, no longer hungry. Instead he sipped at his coffee, trying his best to enjoy it in spite of everything since there was no telling when they’d get more of the good stuff. He looked at Castiel, pondering something that the angel had told the girl. Finally he pulled out his slate and wrote on it.

_You’re possessing some guy?_   


* * *

Castiel ate more of the crispy meat the humans call bacon. He had to admit he rather liked the flavor, the taste of the salt, the smoke, the way it crunched. His human host seemed to be enjoying it as well. Although James Novak was deeply buried, as much to protect the man from Castiel's presence as to give the angel full control, this human act of eating had brought 'Jimmy' closer to the surface than he had been since the beginning.

When Jimmy said anything to Castiel it was usually just that he wanted Castiel to kill as many wretched demons as the angel possibly could before he left. For the most part Jimmy didn't even want to acknowledge the world. What it had been, what it was now…what had been done to his wife and daughter. He was a true believer though, even after all that had happened, and he felt these things that had happened had freed him to act as Castiel's vessel. Castiel assured the man that his wife and daughter were in Heaven and he would someday join them there. After God's work was done. Castiel wished he had had time to search them out, to show him their peace, but he could not, not while the Winchester brother was his charge.

He ate more of the sweet sticky bread. Smelling the coffee that Dean was drinking, he turned his attention to his own cup of coffee. He couldn't say it smelled good, or bad for that matter. It was a scent and he was merely curious what the associated taste would be. Now that he could taste. He picked up the coffee and drank a few swallows. Jimmy definitely seemed to appreciate the flavor. He found it bitter and a strange counterpoint to the bread. He was still trying to understand the human fascination with coffee when he saw Dean writing on the slate. Reading it, he shook his head.

"Angels can not possess. We can inhabit a vessel only if the human host agrees to our presence. Few humans have bloodlines and bodies that are capable of containing our angelic form for any length of time without damage. Jimmy is among the special. His body can withstand my presence without damage and he welcomed my presence. Serving God has always been his desire, and once this occurred," Castiel waved his hand, indicating the current situation of the world, "and his family died, he gladly welcomed me. He asked I not leave until I have 'kicked as many demon asses' as I possibly can. He understood though that my job would be to protect you and destroying demons may not be something that occurs while I am still with him." Castiel tilted his head. "Is this coffee considered good?" 

* * *

As Dean listened to Castiel explain the relationship he had with his human host he wasn’t sure at first whether or not to believe the angel. Yeah, that usually applied to everything Castiel said or did. But then again, that applied to just about everyone except for Bobby and Ellen. Did Dean have trust issues? Sure. Who could blame him?

It still sounded like possession to Dean, and there was really no way to know whether or not ‘Jimmy’ had actually agreed to it. In the end though, Dean decided to take the angel at his word. Mostly because in the time he'd come to know the angel he’d proven to be pretty ignorant when it came to human emotions and motivations. Dean wasn’t sure Castiel could have lied about it if he tried. Especially the ‘kicking demon asses’ part.

That… Dean could certainly understand. If Dean had the chance to get even, to kill even some of those demon bastards that had tortured him for the last five years of his life, he’d probably take it too. Even if it meant letting something else ride around in his meat suit.

Dean nodded in understanding, wondering if he should tell Bobby or not. Chances were Bobby already knew. The older hunter knew more about this stuff than probably any human alive. And if it wasn’t widely known… it could be bad. There would probably be a lot of humans that wouldn’t understand the difference. Given what the demons had done to the world. The terrified look on the woman’s face as she led her daughter away said enough. Dean would keep quiet about it.

Castiel’s unexpected question about the coffee pulled Dean out of his musings and he nodded. It was certainly better than the instant crap they usually served, but beggars couldn’t be chooser’s. He noted that the angel was drinking it black, but that’s the way Dean liked his. Dean erased his slate and wrote on it again.

_You might like it better with cream and sugar._

* * *

"Cream and sugar?" Castiel considered this. "Yes, humans like milk and honey. I can see where this might be better with such." He saw the look Dean gave him. "Not milk and honey. …Cream and sugar." The angel slowly nodded though he didn't really get it. "I will try some …cream and sugar…" Pushing himself to his feet, he swept his gaze slowly over the occupants of the room. Satisfied he felt no particularly strong ill-will towards Dean, he carried his coffee over to where he saw others adding things to their coffee. He greeted those who spoke to them and accepted help in determining how much sugar and cream to add from a petite blond.

Bobby sank into Castiel's vacated seat and gave Dean a tired smile. "'Morning, Sunshine. You going stir crazy yet? You just gotta speak up when you're ready to get out of the cabin. I can find you stuff to do by yourself, or kind of solitary but in a group like this. I don't think you're ready for group activities yet." Giving Dean a hard look he added, "But there ain't no rush, Dean. You need another couple months to get yourself together, you take it. You were a prisoner for five years. You ain't gonna bounce back in a couple weeks, maybe not in a couple months. I get that. Most of them here get that. I don't want you think that…I dunno, that I don't think you can handle doing things, if you think you're ready to do them. I'd rather you wait a couple more weeks, but I just want you to know you have _options._ You got all the choices you want."

Castiel returned and sat down next to Bobby, making no comment that Bobby was in his seat. He set a fresh cup of coffee down for Dean. "Ellen insisted," he said. "And Patty, who aided me with the cream and sugar addition to my coffee, asked if I wanted to meet her sometime soon at the 'supply shack,' that she wanted to 'show me some things.' She looked at me strangely then, her eyelids moving rapidly as if she had dust in them. I told her perhaps. Do either of you know why she would wish to show me something that she would not reveal?"

"Oh she'll reveal it," Bobby guffawed. "Give her ten seconds alone and she'll reveal anything you want revealed."

Castiel furrowed his brow and glanced at Dean, as if hoping for a clearer explanation. 

* * *

Milk and honey? _Milk and honey?_ What the hell? Dean stared at the angel like he’d just grown a second head. Ok, fine, he got that Castiel was inexperienced hanging around with humans, and a lot of the things they said and did confused him. Something that Dean didn’t quite understand considering the angel had implied quite a few times that he’d spent plenty of time on earth in the past. But Dean supposed it was different just observing and actually interacting with humans. That wasn’t the point though. Milk and honey in coffee? That was like… sacrilegious or something.

Dean watched as the angel got up and went over to where the condiments were kept, looking more than a little helpless, like a lost puppy, and the young man shook his head. A smile tugged at his lips in spite of himself. The angel was hopeless.

Turning his attention away from the clueless angel Dean poked at his food a little more and drank his coffee. When he looked up hearing someone sit down across from him he was a little surprised it was Bobby instead of Castiel but Dean wasn’t complaining. He gave the older man a slight smile even though he rolled his eyes a little at the ‘sunshine’ comment.

It was really quite amazing just how well Bobby could read him lately. In fact he’d jokingly accused the older man of reading his mind. But sometimes it seemed they could have entire conversations without Dean ever needing to pick up his slate and write anything down. Bobby just read his facial expressions or whatever gestures Dean made. Sometimes Dean still missed being able to have an actual conversation with the older man, but he’d gotten used to not having his voice a long time ago, so it was usually a fleeting wish at best.

Dean nodded in agreement with Bobby about the group activity thing. No, he definitely wasn’t ready for that. But he did want to do something. Maybe he could do some things with Bobby or Ellen. At the older man’s look however Dean merely rolled his eyes. Yeah, he understood why Bobby was worried about him and wanted him to take things slow. But having something to do would help him keep his mind off things he didn’t want to think about. So he was definitely ready for that.

_I’m ready._ Dean wrote down, punctuated by giving Bobby a stubborn look. Physically he was more or less fine. Castiel had pretty much seen to that the first day he’d gotten here. Mentally? He would probably never be fine, but he could deal with it. He was tired of sitting around. Dean needed to feel useful for _something_ other than… what the demons had used him for.

When Castiel returned, handing him a fresh cup of coffee Dean raised an eyebrow in surprise before the angel explained. Ah, Ellen sure was spoiling him. This stuff was rationed even more closely than the liquor. Still he appreciated it. Dean turned to give Ellen a slight wave of thanks.

It was just as he was taking a sip of his fresh cup of coffee when Castiel asked his question, and Dean wasn’t sure if it was the question itself, the way it was asked, or Bobby’s reply. But suddenly the coffee was going down the wrong way, making Dean sputter and choke as he laughed. Even when he tried to catch his breath one look at the utterly clueless expression on the angel’s face just made him laugh harder. 

* * *

Castiel did not understand what Dean found so funny. Or Bobby for that matter. Had it not been a reasonable question? And what could the woman possibly reveal that he would wish to see? He frowned as he stared into the coffee cup, wishing that he grasped human idiosyncrasies better than he did.

Bobby's face split into a grin when he saw Dean laughing, really laughing, for probably the first time. Sure he'd chuckled now and then, seemed to enjoy things at times, but this was an honest-to-God bout of hard laughter. Castiel seemed to be a little out of sorts over being laughed at, but too bad, he'd get over it. Maybe some sex would loosen the guy up some.

Leaning in close to the angel, Bobby said quietly, "Idget, she wanted to have sex with you."

Castiel's eyes widened and his mouth fell open. "Sex? As in, fornication? No. Angels don't…not ever," he practically squeaked. "It's…it's not done. We don't." Castiel looked between Bobby and Dean but it was obvious that both believed that had been the young woman's intent. And both found it hysterical that he had no clue. 

* * *

As Bobby leaned in close to the angel, his voice low enough not to carry too far, but still loud enough for Dean to hear what was being said, the young man couldn’t help but snort so hard it hurt. The look on the Castiel’s face when he finally understood what the woman wanted from him was utterly priceless. The angel was usually so stoic it was difficult to think of him as a living, breathing, being. He acted more like a robot or something than anything else. Now, however, the poor angel looked utterly horrified, embarrassed, and completely… human.

But even as Dean snickered and caught his breath from laughing so hard, he couldn’t help but remember his own reaction to Ellen’s attempt to hook him up with… what was her name, Dean couldn’t even remember… The panic he’d felt then was probably a lot different from what Castiel was feeling now, but the reminder was enough to sober Dean up pretty quickly then.

How would Dean feel if someone laughed at him for that reaction? His amusement with the situation died.

He picked up his slate and wrote, showing it to Castiel when he was done.

_You don’t have to, if you don’t want to._

He knew there was a lot of things that the angel didn’t understand about humans, so that was one thing that Dean wanted to make very clear to him. 

* * *

Bobby was still laughing when he saw Dean sober and write Castiel a message. He read the message and his gaze flicked from Castiel to Dean. It was suddenly made clear to him what he had suspected but had never asked. Dean had been used by the demons, used for sex. Dean hadn't been given a choice. Dean may have liked to cat around, but what the demons did, that was rape. Maybe for all those years.

Bobby thumped the angel in the bicep. "That's right. Free choice. That's what humans are all about. That's what we're still fighting for. The right to screw things up any way we chose. Just tell Patty 'no.' Nicely. And it'll all be fine."

Castiel gave a hesitant nod. Living among them was so different than observing them, being invisible, letting the years pass as he stayed motionless, watching the world change, waiting for new orders from God.

Turning away from the befuddled angel, Bobby focused on Dean. "So, let's get back to what you want to do. We've got animals that need tended, fed, mucked. We've got engines that need maintenance, electrical devices that need to be made, repaired or scavenged from. There're repairs to be done on buildings, building new buildings, working in the greenhouse, sorting through boxes brought in of possible usable items, making bullets, sharpening weapons…any of these tickling your fancy? You don't have to stick with one thing. Might be you try something and you don't like it. There's always work to be done, but most of the work isn't 'gotta be done right away' work. Food, water, warmth, defense, those are the only criticals. Anything else is bonus." 

* * *

Dean pondered what Bobby told Castiel about free choice. About how it was what the humans were still fighting for. After everything Dean had seen, after everything he’d gone through, after all the destruction the demons… Sam… had caused sometimes Dean couldn’t help but wonder why anyone still fought. It was a losing battle. They all knew it. But they still fought. And that was the reason, right there, in a nice little nut shell. Free will.

It was the very reason he’d fought so hard against Sam. No matter how much Sam hurt him, he refused to give in. Even when giving up would have saved him a lot of pain in the end. But defiance had been the only ‘choice’ he had left. So he chose it.

No, their world had not been perfect before. Far from it. But it had still been theirs. Most people living in it still had a choice, at least, more of one than what the demons running things now gave them. Losing battle or not, it was worth fighting for.

Dean was pulled out of his musings when Bobby changed the subject. Or more accurately, got them back on subject. He thought about the things the older man said needed done. Fixing engines and other electronics is probably what he had the most experience with. John and Bobby had taught him everything he knew about cars and stuff, and it had always been something he’d enjoyed and was good at. Hell, he could probably take apart the impala’s engine blindfolded. While he might be a bit out of practice, he could probably pick it up again fairly quickly.

_Engines._ Dean finally wrote down after another moment of thought, though he figured Bobby had guessed that already. 

* * *

Not surprised by Dean's answer, Bobby gave a nod. "Right. Thought you might be interested in that. Our head mechanic is Zoey." Bobby lifted his hand and waved at a tall Mexican woman. The woman strode over.

"How many times I gotta tell you, you just aren't my type, old man?" she said as she slid into the seat by Dean. She looked at the slate, then at Dean. "Heard stories about you, Dean. That man," she said indicating Bobby, "He'll talk a girl's ear off if she happens to be helping him restore a certain black Impala. You were a real trouble-maker in your day. Hope you will be again soon. Not enough troublemakers in this place. Too many eggshell walkers if you ask me." Her gaze shifted to Castiel. "So you're a walking, talking, living angel. Do angels have wing envy like men have—"

"Zoey," Bobby snapped.

She gave a snort. "See? Eggshells. Well, Mr. Angelman, you don't scare me, don't intimidate me, and I don't believe in your ass anyways."

"I have no intentions of 'scaring' anyone. I am here only to protect Dean. But how can you deny my existence when I am sitting right in front of you?"

"Easy. I just close my eyes and make sure you're downwind." She closed her eyes and shook her head. "Nope. No angels here." She opened her eyes and gave Dean a wink. "They're dicks, you know that, don't you?"

"Zoey!" Bobby said with exasperation, "Dean wants to work on engines."

She blinked at Bobby, gave him a minor look of disgust then turned back to Dean. "He's so damned touchy. Was he always this cranky? Hear you've known him most of your life. You're going to have to give me all the scoop on him. Show up at the motor pool when you're ready. Dress warm. We've got motorcycles, cars, trucks, and big-ass trucks to work on. Got some vehicles we're rebuilding," she waved her hand, "hell, we've got something I'm sure you'll like rolling your sleeves up and getting to work on. Today's Sunday, so no working, but you can come by after church and look over stuff and pick out a project to start on tomorrow. I like schedules, I like clocks. We start at 2 hours after sun-up, we break for an hour at lunch, and we stop when the mess-hall opens for dinner. Unless we got a rush job or something. We work five days out of seven. It's me, Kent's my side-kick, and now you, working at the motor pool. We got some apprentice kids that come in and work and learn a few hours every day. Sometimes other folks drop by, tinker a bit. You got any questions?" 

* * *

Dean hadn’t really been expecting to meet his new ‘boss’ right then and there, but given the size of the camp and that everyone in it was pretty much here for breakfast right now he shouldn’t have been surprised. He gave a nod of greeting to Zoey when she came over and did his best not to look too uncomfortable when she sat down on the bench next to him. It was nothing personal, but he got nervous when anyone besides Bobby or Ellen got too close to him. The fact that most people seemed to give him a wide berth and avoid him completely when he was out and about had been something of a blessing.

Though when the woman mentioned hearing stories about him, Dean raised an eyebrow at Bobby. Just what the hell had the older man been telling people about him? Troublemaker huh… yeah that was pretty accurate he supposed. At least it had been.

Dean almost choked on his coffee again when she asked the angel about ‘wing’ envy. He almost wished that Bobby had let her finish that question just to see the look on Castiel’s face. Then again, the angel was probably too clueless to understand the joke.

Hearing her mention the impala made his heart ache a little however. As much as he’d wanted to see his baby, after what had happened with the cassette tapes, he hadn’t asked Bobby to go see her yet. Afraid he’d have a complete meltdown or something seeing what had pretty much been his and Sam’s only true home most of his life.

He was glad when the subject was quickly changed and Dean covered his mouth to hide the grin that pulled to his lips in spite of himself when she called Bobby cranky. He had to admit, he liked Zoey. He nodded as she gave him the info of where and when to show up. Just three people working in the motor pool, huh, that eased Dean’s mind more than he realized. Maybe some kids every now and then. He could handle that. He shouldn’t have doubted Bobby would set him up good.

Dean shook his head when she asked if he had any questions. He didn’t have any now at least, and he was surprised how much better he felt now that he had something to do. From pretty much sun up to sun down was a long day or sure, but it was just what Dean was looking for. Should keep him busy all day without having to think too much, at least about things better left in the past.

He even held out his hand for Zoey to shake before she left the table without prompting. It was almost normal. 

* * *

Castiel remained quiet, watching the interactions between Bobby and Dean and Zoey. Zoey was something of a conundrum to Castiel as he evaluated flashes of memories he picked up from her. All of her life she had embraced sin, had even killed and gone to prison for it. She wasn't what Castiel would consider a 'good' person, never shown an inclination for self-sacrifice, and yet she had found a place among these people. She worked hard to accomplish that which was assigned to her to do. He gave a small smile. People never ceased to amaze him. Perhaps Zoey would yet find redemption, forgiveness, and her way to Heaven.

Since Bobby was here, Castiel rose to his feet. "They asked that I might come to the chapel a bit before the service. Bobby, Dean has agreed to come listen to me speak at the church this morning. Will you stay with him until after the service when I may rejoin him?"

Bobby's eyebrows nearly climbed into his hairline but he gave a nod. "Yeah, but Dean doesn't need a babysitter." Although Bobby said it, privately he had been deeply glad Castiel was around most times to keep an eye on Dean. And Castiel was the perfect babysitter. Powerful, capable of stopping about anything, and quiet. The angel didn't bother Dean with questions, he left Dean in peace, which Bobby tried to do over long stretches, figuring Dean was dealing with a lot, even though he wanted to grill Dean endlessly about everything that had really happened to him.

Castiel was silent, his gaze flicking between the two men. After a long pause, Castiel finally said, "Dean is a warrior. I have no doubt of his abilities." He nodded briefly to Dean. "But you are my charge, Dean, and I can not leave you unguarded if you are out in the open, among so many." He gaze refocused on Bobby. "I know you would give your life for Dean, that you would protect him with your last breath, and I know there is little chance of anyone challenging you to get to Dean." Castiel gave a small smile, "I doubt if anyone would risk the wrath of either you or Ellen. You need merely call or pray for me by name and I will immediately return. I will see you both at the service."

* * *

Dean went back to eating his breakfast. Finishing off the bacon and even eating a little more of the French toast since he was feeling a little better about things now. He was so used to having the angel practically attached to him whenever he went anywhere outside Bobby’s cabin that he was a bit surprised when Castiel got up and announced he was leaving. For the church… oh right, Dean had almost forgotten about that.

He looked over to the older man and noticed his surprise, and wondered if that had more to do with the fact that Castiel had agreed to speak or that Dean had agreed to go to church. Probably both. Dean frowned a little at the implication that he needed a babysitter however, and then snorted softly when Bobby echoed that sentiment.

Yeah, Bobby really did know him too well.

In truth though, he was glad that Bobby would be there… ok, so maybe he did need a babysitter, he just didn’t want to admit it aloud. Not like he needed to. Everyone already knew what a mess he was, though they pretended most of the time not to notice how messed up he was. Another thing Dean was thankful for that he would never admit. But then sometimes denial was the only way he got through the day.

Dean’s eyebrows shot up when Castiel replied, calling him a warrior of all things. He sure as hell didn’t see himself as that. At least not anymore. He wasn’t sure even what he’d done to give Castiel that impression, considering most of the time Dean felt like cracked glass that only needed the slightest bit of pressure to shatter completely. He couldn’t help but wonder if Castiel was just saying what he thought Dean wanted to hear… but that’s what a human would do. Dean wasn’t sure the angel understood human’s enough to emulate that.

Not really knowing how to reply to that, Dean took another drink from his coffee, hoping it would hide the slight flush that had rose to his face as a result of the angel’s words. Unfortunately it resulted in him practically snorting coffee once more when the angel’s words regarding the wrath of Ellen brought forth a mental image of the older woman brandishing a shotgun in his defense, much like the first time they’d met. He wasn’t sure why it struck him as so damned funny, but it did, and he gave the angel a mild glare as he departed, wondering if Castiel had done it on purpose. 

* * *

"I was beginning to think he was attached to your hip," Bobby murmured to Dean as he watched the trench-coat wearing angel leave the mess. "And you, going to service? Let me guess, you just want to go to see what he'll say. I know I'm a might bit curious. I think most the camp is. Angels don't usually talk to humans unless they're bringing orders from God. Don't worry, we can stand in back by the door. I'm sure the church'll be full up with the angel talking, and nobody'll mind us over in the shadows."

Looking at the plate in front of Dean he said, "Glad to see your appetite is getting better. You could due to put on some weight." He looked at the tray in front of him and knew it had been Castiel's seat he had taken. "I thought the angel didn't eat? I sure hope we don't have to explain to him about using the outhouse." Bobby made a face.

"Looks like you and Zoey will get along good and her cohort in crime, Kent, he's pretty quiet, don't talk much, least ways until the kids show up. Then he'll spin yarns thick and long enough to knit a hundred scarves from. Course the way he sprinkles in truths, you never really know what's fact and what's fiction. He goes out hunting with us about once every couple weeks. He's a helluva tracker, but he won't kill anything unless he don't have a choice. Get a different answer from him every time you ask why, so I stopped askin'. He sings in church and he's got a damned fine voice if ever I heard one. I wonder how those two are going to take to Castiel hanging around the garage all day with you." 

* * *

Dean coughed and wiped his face with his napkin, glad that Bobby wasn’t going to comment about him snorting coffee. Or his blushing for that matter, which at least Dean could blame on almost choking, at least.

Dean gave a nod, confirming his reasons for agreeing to go to church this morning. At least he wasn’t the only one who was curious. But he hadn’t really considered everyone else in camp being curious too, and how packet the rather small building might become. He was glad even more that Bobby was going to be there. If Dean hadn’t promised Castiel he would be there he might have had second thoughts about going at all.

He wasn’t all that surprised Castiel speaking was a big deal to a lot of people. Considering Dean had figured Angels were just a myth before the world went to hell, literally, he wasn’t surprised that even now Angels didn’t really mingle with humans. Even though Castiel wasn’t all that bad, Dean had heard plenty of people refer to the other angels as dicks. Another thing that didn’t surprise Dean at all.

Dean picked up his slate when Bobby commented on the food. _Ellen made him._ He wrote, probably unnecessarily. Then laughed again at the idea of having to explain to the angel that what went in had to come out eventually. _I’m leaving that one to you._ Dean wrote, still snickering.

He finished off his coffee listening to Bobby talk. Noting how the population in the mess hall was thinning out fairly quickly now. Must be almost time for the service to start then. Dean was glad that Bobby didn’t seem to be in any rush to leave. Last ones in, first ones out. That sounded pretty good to him.

To be honest, he hadn’t thought of what the angel might do when Dean went to ‘work’. At least at Bobby’s cabin Castiel could pretend to make himself busy with translating the older man’s texts. Dean couldn’t think of a damned thing the angel could do to keep himself busy in a garage. Without the risk of blowing something up…

_I can ask him to help you out._ Dean wrote, grinning cheekily at the older man. 

* * *

"Bite your tongue, idget. The angel is already helping out by translating. He can take some of the manuscripts with him to the garage. I don't need him mucking about in my business. I think it's generally best if the angel keeps a low profile on a day-to-day basis anyhow. Everyone may want to hear him talk, but they don't need to see him out and about all the damned time. A lot would just as soon he not be here."

He saw the question in Dean's eyes and gave a heavy sigh. "Angels are dicks. They don't give a shit about people. Used to be if a town had more demons than people, the angels would attack and just wipe out the whole god-damned town. They'll take over a human vessel if the person will let them, then leave them as vegetables. Apparently they don't _have_ to, they can protect the person's mind but most don't give a rat's ass about us. They call us 'mud-monkies' and we call them dicks. If they weren't fighting the demons, we'd be trying to get rid of them as much as the demons. They're arrogant, self-righteous assholes." Bobby's voice softened finally. "Castiel…he's not like the arch-angels I've had the sweet joy of meeting. Or seen the aftermath of. That's part of why I haven't tried to get him to leave. He's polite, or he tries at least, he listens, doesn't seem to be the arrogant ass so many of them are and he seems genuinely interested in your welfare. The fact I've refused to try to evict him has some people a little less leery of him, but he still scares people. All that power. The things he can do with just a thought…" Bobby shook his head.

"I think the place is probably getting pretty filled up. If we want a place by the door, we need to head over that way. If it gets too much for you, all the people, the small area, just let me know and we'll get the hell out." 

* * *

Dean supposed that was the best option, though he was a bit surprised Bobby was willing to let his precious books out of his sight. He was also a little surprised though how serious the older man was about the subject. Dean had only been joking about trying to push the angel off on him. Dean couldn't decide whether he liked Castiel or not, trusted him or not, but the angel and Bobby seemed to get along all right. Maybe there was more friction there than Dean had seen though, and Bobby was keeping it on the down low for his benefit.

His confusion must have shown on his face because Bobby started to explain. Yeah, he'd heard that angels were dicks. But he hadn't quite realized… just the extent that went. Wiping out whole towns. So, Bobby did know about the whole angel possession thing and apparently it was worse than Dean had imagined. Leaving people as vegetables… even demons didn't do that once they'd been exorcised. Dean couldn't help but think about Castiel's host… Jimmy, he said his name was. Was that going to happen to that guy if Castiel left him? Did Castiel care or not if he left his host a cripple for the rest of his life… if he left him alive at all…

A cold feeling settled in Dean's stomach and he nodded to Bobby in understanding. Castiel so far was the only angel Dean had met. Over the past weeks his distrust of the angel had been slowly fading, but now it was back in full force. He'd been right all along. The angels hadn't rescued him out of any kind of charity. Castiel wasn't protecting him, he was his jailor. And whatever the angels had planned for him in the future… it wasn't going to be good and Dean wasn't going to have a choice…

He felt a little sick, and more than a little betrayed… even though he knew he shouldn't. It was Dean's fault for not asking Bobby for the scoop on angels until now. Apparently Castiel was a better actor than Dean gave him credit for.

When Bobby mentioned they should get going, Dean nodded again, even though he really didn't feel like going anymore. He got up and gathered his stuff, taking his tray and dishes over to the counter where they were stacked up to be washed. Then he shoved his hands in his pockets and followed the older man out of the mess hall. It sure as hell hadn't gotten any warmer outside but he still wasn't sure the chill that crawled up his spine had much to do with the weather.

* * *

Castiel sat on the raised platform that had been built for the choir and for the preacher, Alan, who was the preacher, he said, only because no one else wanted the job. Alan had cornered Castiel nearly every day, trying to convince him to speak.

The angel listened as Alan talked about faith and love, taking care of one another, and finding strength in themselves, their families, and God. The choir sang a few songs in between the speeches Alan gave. Alan made a definite effort to focus on the strength of love rather than of God's love, Castiel noticed. This was not like the many thousands of sermons he had listened to through the eons. He watched the crowd, seeing how they reacted when Alan read verse from the bible versus when he simply spoke from his heart. Alan finally introduced Castiel and beckoned him to join him at the pulpit.

Castiel looked out at the faces of those in camp. It was the first time, he thought, that many had ever directly looked at him. "I have considered what to say to you all. I am a soldier, what you would call a 'grunt.' I am not privy to the secrets of the arch angels, nor have I ever met or spoken with God. I, like you, must have faith. I do not know why He has permitted the demons to escape their bonds of Hell. I do not believe this is the Apocalypse talked of in the Bible, of the End Times, for the Horsemen have not come and Lucifer is yet imprisoned. What does this mean? I believe it means humans can yet regain the world and take it back from the demons.

"I know some of my brothers and sisters have not shown what you would judge to be care or concern for humans. We are soldiers. That is all we have ever been. Many angels of the higher echelons have not been on Earth since before the time of Christ. They do not know you, your grace, your beauty, your capacity for kindness, selflessness, and love. They know only the battle, and you are nothing to them but pawns to be used to help defeat the demons and return Earth to the control of humans once again.

"I pray you understand that though I stand before you appearing to be a man, I am not a man. I am an angel. My true visage would blind you, my voice would deafen you and destroy structures. I don't say this to frighten you, I say this so you might understand that I am _not human_ and I do not think as you, nor react as you might. I am making an effort to learn your ways, but I am still confused by many things that you do and how and why you react as you do." Castiel paused a moment then gave a brief nod. "I don't know what else you wish to hear or know. If you wish for me to speak of events in the Bible that I witnessed, I can. If you wish to ask me questions, I will answer what I am able to. I have faith in Our Father, and I have faith in the humans He made and asked us to love."

Castiel glanced at Alan and then started to return to his seat when Alan gripped his biceps to stop him. He quickly let go after the cool look he got from the angel. "Who is your vessel? What will happen to him when you leave him?"

"His name is Jimmy Novak. His wife and daughter were tortured and killed by demons. He welcomed me. What will happen to him will be up to him. I can leave him alive and healthy to continue to fight, or I can release his soul. I will not leave him…damaged…if I can prevent it. Sometimes our presence is too much for the human mind to handle, but I have tried to protect him and I believe I have thus far succeeded."

"How do we know you're telling the truth?" Alan asked.

"Why would I lie?" Castiel asked. "It has no effect on me if you believe me or you doubt me. You can not hurt me. You can not kill me. Lying would serve no purpose and deceit is the way of demons, not angels. I think…I think I should leave now so that you may continue to lead these people in prayer and song. I will be only a distraction, not a comfort." Castiel transported himself outside of the church to prevent anyone from protesting or trying to ask him more questions. He wondered if Dean would say he too was a 'dick' based upon the brief speech he gave. He hoped not. He did not want Dean to think of him that way, though he wasn't entirely certain why it would matter to him. 

* * *

The church was pretty filled up by the time he and Bobby arrived. Most of the buildings were often a bit drafty and chilly even with a wood stove or fire burning, but not in the church. Not today at least. There were so many people crammed into the space that the body heat generated was almost stifling. Dean wouldn’t be surprised if most of the camp was here. He hadn’t been around this many people crammed into one space since… probably since that night he’d been dragged from the dungeons to the demon’s party, to serve as entertainment. Where he saw Sam for the first time in five years…

The reminder of that night plus his discomfort being around people in general made the tension in Dean grow exponentially. His fingers curled into fists in his pockets but he gave no other outward sign of his turmoil. He might not like it, but he could handle it. Like everyone else here he had come to listen to what Castiel had to say, so he would stay, at least until then.

He and Bobby found a place close to the door and next to one of the windows. Dean stood close to the window, the cool glass against his back helping to relax him a little bit. No one paid him much attention. Everyone seemed to be mostly focused upon Castiel sitting up on the platform looking rather uncomfortable while he waited.

After the second choir song, Dean started to get really bored. Church had never been his thing. As far as the bible went, the only use he’d found in it was a few exorcism rites and making holy water. He’d rather get his teeth cleaned than sit through a whole church service. He wished they’d just get to the fucking point.

Finally the preacher introduced Castiel, like he really needed to, everyone knew who, and what, the angel was. The angel’s eyes didn’t meet his once as he started to speak even though Castiel seemed to be watching the crowd pretty carefully.

As he listened to the angel speak, Dean wasn’t sure what to think. Even not knowing what Castiel would say to the humans gathered in the church, he was still a bit surprised by what the angel revealed. Especially given what Bobby had told him so recently about angels. He confirmed that the angels, or at least low ranking angels like Castiel, didn’t know what the fuck was going on any better than they did. He confirmed that many of the other angels pretty much didn’t give a flying fuck about humans except as pawns. Pawns to be sacrificed on a whim.

A quick glance around the room told Dean that the uneasiness he felt hearing this was shared by most of the people in the room, if not all. If Castiel was trying to comfort them in any way, he was doing a pretty poor job of it. When the preacher asked Castiel about his vessel, Dean’s eyes turned back towards the angel. Curious in spite of himself. Castiel’s answer seemed genuine but Dean couldn’t help to wonder if it was true. Dean had to admit, the preacher had balls voicing aloud the same question that was probably on everyone’s mind.

Castiel’s answer hit him like a blow to the stomach in its simple harsh truth. The angel had no reason to lie, because they were powerless against him. He could do or say whatever he pleased and there wasn’t a damned thing anyone could do to stop him. Once the angel was gone the murmuring broke out amongst the crowd almost immediately. The small space suddenly feeling even more cramped and oppressive Dean tapped Bobby on the shoulder and indicated he was going outside. He needed some air. 

* * *

Castiel saw Dean leave the church almost immediately after he had left. He could easily hear the talking of the people, of their concerns, their fears, and he listened as the preacher tried to quiet them, tried to reassure them that he, Castiel, meant them no harm, though his presence meant the camp was on the radar of the higher angels. Did they not realize the angels knew where most any human was at any given time if they so chose?

He gave Dean a moment to himself, then appeared beside him. "I spoke poorly, didn't I?" Castiel said softly, glancing toward the church. "I tried to tell Alan that I am a soldier, not a prophet. I haven't the gift of eloquent speech to enthrall those who listen to me. With angels, we rarely give speeches to one another. There is a chain of command, and you obey. Even if the chance of death or capture exists and is great, you obey without question. Disobedience is the greatest sin an angel can commit. That is why angels lead humans into battle and expect them to follow. Nor do they consider the fragility of the human body, or perhaps they believe the warriors that fall to the enemy are in a better place, in Heaven. I do not know."

Looking at Dean he asked, "Am I too a…'dick'? Should I have provided false hope and lied?"

* * *

No one paid much attention to Dean as he exited the church for which the young man was grateful. The cold wind was like a slap to the face after the heat inside the building but in a good way. Dean felt like he could breathe again, the almost… trapped… and oppressive pressure he'd felt inside the church slowly dissipating. As he walked down the path away from the church doors, not really wanting to be around in case anyone else came out, he took a deep breath of the chilly air. His tension slowly beginning to drain away and he thought about what Castiel had said.

Almost as if on cue the angel appeared suddenly beside him making Dean jump almost out of his skin. The young man glared hard at the angel, but Castiel seemed unaffected by it. Dean blinked in surprise as he watched the angel glance back towards the church as he talked about the little speech he'd given.

No, Dean couldn't say that had gone well in any sense of the word. At least the angel wasn't dense enough not to realize that. But he was surprised by the… concern Castiel seemed to feel regarding the whole affair. He'd just got done telling them all humans were nothing but cannon fodder to the angels and their war. That it didn't matter what they thought of him, they couldn't hurt him, kill him, or get rid of him.

So why did he care what they thought of him? Why did he care what Dean thought of him? Dean looked down at his feet as he considered how to answer the angel. Finally he shook his head.

_"Stick to the truth, it's what you're good at."_ Dean 'thought at' the angel for the first time since he'd called Castiel a dick all those weeks ago. He'd been afraid to until now. Not trusting the angel not to read his mind or something even though Castiel said he couldn't. But as the angel so bluntly put it, Castiel had no reason to lie, and Dean finally believed him.

* * *

Castiel figuratively held his breath as he waited for Dean's response, as he waited for Dean to confirm his fears. His eyes widened a bit when he 'heard' Dean talk to him. That was progress, most certainly. He had finally gained some measure of trust from Dean and that pleased him deeply.

"I do not lie well. I would rather not answer than lie," Castiel admitted with a nod. He stretched his wings out to shield Dean some from the bitterly cold wind. "Many angels love and treasure humans. I should have communicated that better. Those of us who have been stationed on Earth for these many thousand years, most of us feel this way. Many of the warrior ranks feel this way. Sometimes…sometimes there are some feelings of what might be termed envy. Envy is a sin, we do not speak of it, but I have wished upon rare occasion to know what it is to eat, to drink, to feel as humans feel. It has been a very long time since I was in a human vessel to even begin to experience these things. Even in this body, it does not change what I am, and feelings…are not easily…identified."

Castiel watched as a rabbit ventured forth in search of food. Typically rabbits were not active this time of the day but this one apparently decided it was too hungry to wait for dusk. He knelt and held out his hand to it. It hopped over without reservation and Castiel gently picked it up. "Does it not offer some comfort to believe these are not the End Times and that humans likely can beat back the demons, given time?"

He nodded that Dean could stroke the white-furred rabbit if he wished.

* * *

Castiel seemed satisfied, maybe even relieved, by his answer. Or maybe it was just the fact that Dean had finally ‘talked’ to him. It was difficult to tell. The guy’s expression didn’t change much beyond a slightly confused, or constipated, look most of the time.

Though despite Castiel’s reassurance that he did not lie well, the young man found it hard to believe that there were _many_ angels that gave a damn about humans. He had a _really_ hard time believing that any angel could be _envious_ of humans. Especially when all the evidence seemed to point to the contrary. But Castiel himself seemed to care, as much as he could care anyway in human terms. He wasn’t sure if that made it better or worse.

Dean wondered if Castiel’s ‘superiors’ gave him the order to wipe out a human settlement if he’d do it. Maybe he had already. Castiel was just a soldier after all. A soldier that followed orders, no matter what.

He was distracted from his unpleasant thoughts when he saw Castiel’s attention turn away from him towards a rabbit that hopped out of some nearby brush. Dean was surprised to see it to say the least, so close to the camp. His eyes widened further when Castiel knelt down and the rabbit hopped over to him. It was rather… cute… and Dean couldn’t help but smile softly.

Castiel’s question erased that smile however and instead made Dean frown in thought, not really sure how to answer. He avoided Castiel’s eyes by looking at the rabbit in the angel’s arms, hesitating a few moments before carefully reaching out to pet it.

Dean had seen what the demons could do. He’d experienced it. Humans were losing ground every day, even with the angel’s ‘help’. If the angels ever decided it was a lost cause and pulled out nothing was going to stop the demons from steamrolling over what was left of humanity.

These might not be the ‘end times’ but the world Dean had known was still over.

_”You really believe that? That we can win?”_ Dean asked instead, scratching gently behind the rabbit’s ears. 

* * *

"Of course. You were rescued by the arch angel Gabriel when he infiltrated the demonic stronghold to kill the one called the Boy-King. It was believed the Boy-King was the leader of the army, of the insurrection, and the binding force keeping the demons under control. Gabriel found this may not be true. Two powerful demons may be the actual force behind it all.

"Michael called for retreat when Gabriel made his escape with you. I know the arch angels are re-evaluating tactics in an effort to decide how to best make their next attack and likely, who to target. This information could change everything. Demons do not readily band together in large numbers without a leader. If the correct leaders are removed from play, organization will be lost and that will be when humans and angels can push to defeat and destroy the demons.

"The arch angels will likely wish to talk with you in the near future, get your opinion on any power plays or interactions you saw that could aid and help shape their plans. That is only my suspicion though. I am not privy to their plans." Castiel watched Dean scratch the rabbit's ears and run gentle fingers through its fur. He finally set the rabbit down. "Return to your den. Food awaits you there," the angel told it.

The rabbit turned, sat up, twitched it's ears, then scampered through the snow and back into the bushes.

* * *

Dean put his hands back in his pockets while the angel set down the animal and frowned to himself in thought.

He didn't know how to feel about the idea of angels planning to assassinate his brother. A part of him, a big part, wanted to kill Sam himself for everything the man had done to him. But at the same time… he couldn't help but remember that day Azazel had taken him away from the younger man. How Dean had seen the demon attack his brother, how he'd snapped, and tackled Azazel to stop him from hurting Sam…

It didn't make sense to him even now thinking back on it. He must have been out of his mind or something. How could he still want to protect Sam after the… monster… he'd become.

If Azazel, Lilith, and… Sam… were dead, would they have a chance? Even if by some miracle it was possible to kill two of the most powerful demons on the planet, plus whatever the hell Sam had become, it still seemed like a long shot. But maybe, as the demons scrambled and fought amongst themselves to stake claim… maybe…

Dean swallowed hard. He looked at the ground. He couldn't believe what he was about to do.

_"Azazel kept me locked away in the dungeons for five years… then a little while ago I was bought out to a party. For entertainment. A mistake apparently. My bro… Sam… saw me and claimed me. Worked on breaking me day in and day out. When Azazel found out he was pissed. Took me away from Sam. Sam was pretty pissed about it. Azazel was planning to have Alistair cut my face off before you guys pulled me out of there. "_

Dean had never planned on telling anyone that. Ever. He wasn't even sure how it could be helpful. Sam getting pissed off at Azazel for taking his toys away, so what. But it was the only power play he'd witnessed first hand. Maybe a sign the big three demon rulers weren't the big happy family, or whatever, in hell.

_"Don't tell Bobby. "_   


* * *

"What you chose to have your friends know or not know is up to you, unless you wish me to speak on your behalf. As you have seen, my communication abilities with humans are somewhat lacking. I will say nothing to him or to any of the others here."

Castiel led Dean further down the trail, headed out of camp. "Gabriel recognized you when he was there, at the demon stronghold. I have heard rumors that Gabriel interacted with humans perhaps more than he should. And I have heard that he sometimes took the form of Loki, also known as a Trickster. I know you and your brother encountered a Trickster. I can only assume it was Gabriel since he knew what you both looked like. He said you and Samuel had always been very protective of one another."

Castiel took a small side trail off the main one and was silent for a bit as he walked, his feet crunching through the top layer of icy snow. "Gabriel said you might be used for leverage if Samuel wanted you back, or as a source of information if you are willing to turn against Samuel." Castiel stepped over a fallen tree and went deeper into the woods. "Knowing that Azazel and Samuel both wanted you and were fighting over you, this may have significance. It may involve the deal which keeps your voice silent…I will not tell them of this specifically. That the two were arguing over the possession of you. I will communicate that you saw Samuel and Azazel appear to be somewhat at odds with each other.

"There are those who would readily use you as…bait. The knowledge of a schism between the two may be enough. It is a start. Raphael…Raphael was among the arch angels that thought little of using humans in what ever fashion was most convenient. Your brother killed him. Of the arch angels remaining, know that more show concern for the welfare of humans than not."

Castiel finally stopped and sat down on a fallen tree, indicating for Dean to join him. A small waterfall was frozen over, ribbons and sheets of ice catching the sunlight, breaking into colorful prisms of light scattering in all directions.

* * *

Dean nodded relieved to say the least and grateful that Castiel agreed not to tell Bobby. Sure, Dean hadn’t told the angel much, just the barest facts, and he was determined to take the gory details of what happened to him to the grave. But Dean didn’t want Bobby to know that he’d had any contact at all with Sam while he’d been the demons prisoner. The older man was too damned smart, and he would probably easily fill in the blanks and… Dean wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to look at Bobby again if the older man even suspected what his own brother had done to him.

The only reason he’d told the angel at all was so if Castiel thought it was important he could tell his higher-ups. Dean wasn’t sure how his experiences, what he’d seen, could be any use to the war effort. But on the slim chance something he knew could help win some battles, save some lives, he’d told Castiel. Trusting in spite of himself, maybe foolishly, that the angel could better determine what might be important than Dean could.

When the angel started walking deeper into the woods, Dean hesitated, looking back towards the camp and the church. Bobby would probably have a cow if he left the camp without telling anyone and couldn’t find him. But Dean had kind of been looking forward to taking a walk in the woods, just to take in all the things he’d taken for granted before. Hiking in the woods had never been his thing before, but being a prisoner changed your perspective a bit.

Besides, there would be less chance of eavesdroppers beyond the border of the camp and it wasn’t like there was any danger. Not with an angel acting as his bodyguard. So Dean followed after Castiel, listening as the angel talked.

His eyebrows shooting nearly to his hairline when he realized what Castiel was saying. Gabriel… the trickster… the trickster was a fucking arch angel?! Too bad his shock at hearing this news didn’t dampen the effect of Castiel’s offhand comment regarding how… protective… he and Sam had once been of each other. He knew the angel probably had no idea how it would affect him, given his lack of understanding of humans, but it was like those simple words drove a knife into his gut.

Too bad the angel wasn’t done. Hearing the angel talk about using him as leverage produced a cold strangling terror inside of him that made it difficult to breathe. It made him realize his horrible mistake talking to the angel about this far too late. Dean felt like he had just dug his own grave.

Which was why it took him a moment to realize what Castiel was saying. He _wasn’t_ going to tell his superiors that Sam and Azazel had been fighting over him? Dean stared at the angel in shock for several moments. Realizing he was so stunned that he actually had stopped walking only when the angel had gotten far enough ahead that he had to jog a little to catch up with him.

Did that mean Castiel actually cared what happened to him? Not just as a bargaining chip or a way to gain some leverage in the war?

Dean was still a little floored by this idea as he followed Castiel into the small clearing he’d led him to. The ground was pure white, the snow completely undisturbed except for their footsteps. Tall trees that circled the area, their branches heavy with new snow and ice crystals. He looked at the little frozen stream and waterfall that caught the morning light through the branches. It was like time itself had frozen and nothing moved but them. It was… nice… peaceful.

When the angel sat down and gestured to the space next to him on the log, Dean hesitated only a moment before he joined him. Only now he wasn’t really sure what to say. Castiel had… surprised him, to say the least.

_”Thanks. For keeping that secret. Everything.”_

* * *

"You're welcome," Castiel said, staring at Dean, studying him for a minute. Every night when he cradled Dean's head in his lap, soothed him with song, and caressed him with his wings, the man's face was relaxed, seemingly free of worry. The creases of strain and tension were so obvious to Castiel, but then after the hours he spent staring at Dean's face, he knew it quite well.

"They chose me to protect you. They know that I have spoken on behalf of humans on many occasions and that I feel strongly about protecting those who Our Father told us to love. If it means protecting you from them using you unnecessarily, then I shall if I am able. I promise you, if they decide your presence might be used to draw Samuel out, I will stand with you and continue to protect you." He reached out at brushed a strand of hair off Dean's forehead. "You are my charge and I will not abandon you."

Castiel looked out into the frozen landscape. "I sensed strong emotions from you as we walked down the trail. Even now, you seem to be…I am unsure of the correct term, perhaps confused? I am sorry if I have said anything to upset you. I thought you would like to know the situation and you have not been ready to discuss such things, but with your revelation, it seemed appropriate to explain what I would do with the information and how it might help. Anything else you know about interactions between Azazel, Lilith, Samuel, and any of the higher ranking demons could potentially be of use. We do not understand from where Samuel derives his powers, how he has grown so strong and yet…yet holy items do not affect him. He can not be fully corrupted or beyond redemption, at least that is my belief, if holy items do not hurt him. And why…if the two of you were once so close, what changed?"

Castiel licked his lips. "Sorry, I ask for answers you do not have or likely do not wish to discuss. These are things I have wondered about, contemplated. I brought you out here so that you might enjoy the peace and beauty of this place. It is close to camp, yet far enough away to offer some privacy. I sometimes come here to think. Usually when I do," he gave Dean a small smile, "I don't talk so much." 

* * *

Dean could practically feel the weight of the angel staring at him but surprisingly it wasn’t uncomfortable. Maybe he was used to people sort of gawking at him and it didn’t affect him anymore, but that didn’t feel right. The angel wasn’t leering at him, or studying him like an interesting insect. Still Castiel seemed to be looking for something, or maybe waiting for something, but Dean wasn’t sure what it was.

Castiel’s promise to protect him, to stand with him, even if his superiors wanted to use him as bait really surprised the hell out of Dean, his eyes widening almost impossibly as he looked at the angel in shock. Dean could understand Castiel protecting him because he was told to. Because one day he might be ‘useful’ to the angels cause. He could even sort of understand Castiel volunteering to hold back some information that really didn’t matter in the long run but might prove dangerous to him if the arch angels found out. But what Castiel was saying…

Sam had ripped apart a fucking arch angel! He didn’t know how far up in the food chain Castiel was in heaven but he’d said he was just a solder, a grunt, certainly not an arch angel. It would be fucking suicide if Castiel went up against Sam, and they both knew it. What the hell had Dean done to foster that kind of loyalty in the angel? Dean had absolutely no idea what to say to that. A feather could have knocked him over.

Dean blamed his utter surprise at not automatically flinching when the angel reached out to touch him. He looked away from the angel then and swallowed hard, shaking his head a little. Yeah, he was confused. He couldn’t say if he was upset or not. But he was glad he wasn’t looking at the angel when Castiel changed the subject and began to talk about Sam.

The young man closed his eyes and his fingers began to ache where they dug into the wood of the log where he sat. He wasn’t going to lose it. He wasn’t, god damn it. But even as he thought it, Castiel unintentionally dug deep into memories better left forgotten, both good and bad, and the pain was almost physical.

Dean hunched forward with a hiss, burying his face in his hands. He didn’t know when he’d started to shake but now he couldn’t stop. Yes, once they’d been close. Once he would have died for Sam. Now…

_“I don’t know… I don’t…”_ Dean felt like he was lying even as he ‘said’ it. But he didn’t know. He didn’t know what had happened to Sam after that night in Cold Oak… or maybe he did. Maybe all the pieces were there, but he simply refused to put them together. Afraid that the puzzle, once it was complete, would simply be too painful.

_You know._ A voice whispered in his head, and it sounded like Sam’s voice. The same voice that had once begged Dean not to make ‘him’ angry. Not to make ‘him’ hurt him. Dean hadn’t heard that voice since he’d told it to shut the fuck up so long ago, and he wasn’t sure why he was hearing it now.

_“He… the things he did to me… he acted… like he didn’t know me…”_ Dean wasn’t even sure why he was ‘saying’ all of this now. He didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t want to relive it through memories, not one second of it. But it was like Castiel had pried off the scab of a wound that had barely healed and now everything was bleeding out.

_“He didn’t know my name…”_ Dean shook his head, his fingers digging into his scalp painfully. He wanted it to stop. Playing across his mind’s eye like a broken camera reel. Everything coated in blood… the female demon cutting her wrist and allowing it to drain into a goblet for Sam. _“Blood… I saw him… drink blood. Demon blood…”_

Dean’s hand went to his throat. Feeling the jagged scar that wrapped around his neck like a grotesque collar. Barbed wire digging into his throat. Sam’s eyes full of fear. Begging the demon… Azazel touched him…

_“… he screamed… I saw him scream...“_ He couldn’t breathe. _“Azazel kept me alive… because of the deal… Sam’s deal.”_  


* * *

Castiel was startled when Dean began to shake with sobs, when he buried his face in his hands. It was not lost on him that he caused it, though he hadn't meant to upset the young man. He listened to Dean, trying to make sense of what Dean said. Images flowed from Dean's mind, images of his time in hell, of a tall dark-haired man who tortured him, who raped him, a dark-haired man who he knew was Sam. He saw the goblet of blood, he saw Sam questioning Dean, Dean's shock at Sam not knowing who he was, of his near death at the hands of Azazel. Of the deal Sam struck with Azazel to save Dean.

For a moment Castiel hesitated, but recalling how Bobby had comforted Dean, he put an arm around Dean's shoulder and wrapped his wing around him as well, knowing it would bring Dean some peace.

"He _didn't_ know you. He traded memories and free will, perhaps his soul, to save you. He has no idea who you are, who he is. The demon blood, that…that could well be the source of his powers and explain why he can do what he does. It is addictive, the blood, and it can change a person, darken and stain them, but even one so stained is not beyond hope. Azazel holds your brother's contract, the same contract that prevents me from healing your voice. Your brother, your real brother, is still inside Sam, lost and chained, perhaps even deeply asleep, almost as if possessed. He can do nothing but follow the rules Azazel laid down for him with the deal. Azazel can not eradicate your brother's soul, he can only bind him, bind his memories, give him new ones." Castiel gently kissed Dean's hair. "I am sorry, I do not know if your brother is lost forever, if there is a way to break the deal."

He used his free hand to make Dean turn his head to face him until he locked gazes with him. "Your brother loved you to do what he did. The one whom you met, who you suffered under, that was Azazel's puppet, not your brother. May that knowledge bring you solace. I am sorry I can offer you only words to ease your pain. If there is anything else I can do, you need only let me know." 

* * *

Sam had struck a deal with Azazel to save his life.

Dean had suspected it for a very long time, but he’d denied it. He suspected it even before he’d seen Sam again. Saw what his brother had become. Saw how his own brother looked at him like a total stranger. All the pieces of the puzzle fit. But he had denied that truth to himself all this time because he knew to admit it would be too painful.

He had suffered much under Azazel’s torture, and then later Sam’s, but he’d been able to endure it. As long as he’d denied this one truth, he had been able to endure practically any physical pain. So his broken mind had ‘protected’ himself from that knowledge as best it could, sometimes shutting down completely when he got too close to the truth.

But he couldn’t deny it anymore no matter how much he might wish to and it hurt… hurt so much… hurt more than anything Sam had physically done to him.

He didn’t think anything could have eased that pain, even a little, so when he felt the warm strong arm wrap around him, felt a rush of warmth spread through him pushing back the darkness a little, he didn’t fight it. In fact, he pressed himself closer to the angel. Burying his face into Castiel’s shoulder as his fingers curled into the lapels of his trench coat. Clinging to the angel like a lifeline.

It reminded him of warm summer days working on the Impala in Bobby’s salvage yard. Cold beers and sitting on the hood of the car at night, listening to the engine ticking as it slowly cooled beneath him, and staring up at the stars. Fishing with his brother on an old rickety pier, laughing around a camp fire, eating smores…

Dean clung to those memories as tightly as he clung to the angel beside him. Using them to help drag him back from the edge of a dark precipice he’d almost fallen into, beyond which was surely never ending despair and madness. His shaking began to ease and he could breathe again. He took in a deep breath and all he could smell was the angel. It was warm, oddly familiar, and comforting…

The angel’s words finally penetrated through the fog of despair that had clouded his mind and Dean couldn’t decide if they comforted him or not. To hear Castiel confirmed that the man… the monster… Dean had seen his brother turn into was _not_ Sam. That it was the demon blood, and whatever the hell Azazel had done to his brother, that made that monster. Like Sam was possessed but not…

But Sam might still be in there… the real Sam… maybe watching everything he was doing and having no control… god… maybe lost forever. Dean wasn’t sure which was worse. There was no way to know. For all intents and purposes his brother was already dead, had been dead since Cold Oak. Had died for him… just like his father had…

He felt Castiel’s fingers on his face, Dean didn’t want to move, but only gave a half hearted resistance before lifting his head and turning to look at the angel. The cold air stung his face where it was wet with tears, but the warmth of Castiel’s fingers more than made up for it. The angel’s eyes seemed to stare straight into his soul.

Dean swallowed hard and nodded slightly. The angel’s fingers caressing his skin slightly with the movement making Dean’s breath hitch. In confusion Dean forced himself to release his hold on the angel and look away, wiping at his tear stained face in embarrassment.

_“I… think I need to lay down.”_ Dean finally said, even though he’d only just woken up a few hours ago he felt completely exhausted. 

* * *

The shame Dean felt at perhaps losing control, sobbing, shedding tears—Castiel wasn't really sure which—Castiel didn't understand. There should be no shame in tears, in mourning, in being upset from talking about his brother. Castiel did not have any idea how to remove those feelings, or what to say that might ease them. It seemed that his emulation of Bobby's actions had produced the desired effects, though, and for that he was glad. Perhaps he was not good at communicating with others, but he and Dean were finally developing a rapport, maybe even some degree of trust and…friendship. Yes, that would be the word to best describe his growing fondness of the young man, Castiel decided.

"I brought you here so you might have a place to escape to that was outside, yet safe, a place of beauty, a place to see the animals of the woods and breathe the fresh air. A place you could relax and find some peace. It seems that I once again failed with my intentions. Being a soldier is easier I think. There is less unknown territory."

Castiel could simply fly Dean back to Bobby's, but that seemed to bother Dean. Castiel stood and offered Dean a hand up. "We can walk back, or I can fly us back. Flying us back would take only a moment and you could lie down right away and we could avoid encountering people, but you have implied you dislike traveling that way. It is your choice. If we walk back, when we reach camp, we may have to pass the tests to prove we've not been possessed or infected while we were out of the camp. So how do you wish to proceed?"

* * *

Dean shook his head at Castiel’s apology. It wasn’t the angel’s fault. Not really. Dean was going to have to deal with all of this shit eventually, it might as well have been here, where he was alone, and his meltdown hadn’t been witnessed by the whole camp. Just Castiel… but he was kind of glad that the angel had been here to talk him down, and comfort him. It could have been… a lot worse.

_“It’s nice here. I’d like to come again.”_ Dean admitted to the angel as a way of saying thanks, though he was sure that Castiel probably wouldn’t get it. When the angel held out his hand to him and offered to ‘fly’ him back Dean hesitated. The one time Castiel had done that it hadn’t exactly been unpleasant but it wasn’t all the pleasant either. Plus the idea of ‘flying’ had never been on Dean’s list of favorite things to do. In fact, it was pretty fucking far at the bottom. Even more so since he and Sam had exorcised the demon bastard that had been making planes crash and he’d had to get on the plane _knowing_ it was going to crash.

But when the angel pointed out that if they went back and people saw them that he’d have to probably go through all the tests again… yeah that pretty much made up his mind. There was no way he was willing to let anyone poke or prod him right now. So he finally reached out and took the angel’s hand, letting Castiel help him up.

_“Quicker is better.”_

* * *

Castiel watched Dean debate and weigh the options. The way his eyes narrowed fractionally and his lips pressed together told Castiel Dean wasn't going to want to fly. But with the idea they might have to go through more tests, the distaste was quite plain on Dean's face.

Castiel considered offering to take Dean anywhere in the world he wanted to go, take him someplace away, someplace beautiful, where Dean could rest and recover and not be forced to deal with others. He knew though that he did not yet know how to help Dean and only through observing Dean's friends and how they helped him, could he best learn. So instead of making any such offer, he smiled at Dean when Dean took his hand.

"I do believe you are right about quicker being better," he told Dean as he helped him stand up. "Bobby is beginning to grow concerned about you. He is demanding I come to him. Considering his feelings about angels in general, he has no fear when it comes to your welfare. I can believe he would demand Michael himself to appear and face the wrath of an arch angel if he thought Michael had you."

Castiel rested his hand upon Dean's shoulder. "If you close your eyes, it will be less disorienting to you. The human mind is not accustomed to processing the sudden shift of its surroundings. When you are ready, let me know. I will take us to Bobby's residence, to your bed, so you might lie down."

* * *

Despite feeling a little guilty for making Bobby worry Dean couldn’t help but smile a little at Castiel’s words. Yeah, that was Bobby all right. Fearless. He wondered exactly what the older man was ‘praying’ to the angel right now. Probably nothing polite.

Given how emotional he already was from their previous conversation Dean wasn’t all that surprised by the lump that formed in his throat thinking about the older man. All the ways Bobby had helped him, not just in the last few weeks, but his whole life. The man had become like a second father to him.

Both to him and Sam…

It scared him a little to think what Bobby might do for him. Bobby had thought he was dead these last five years, but what if he hadn’t? The older man probably wouldn’t be alive now because Dean knew nothing would have stopped him from storming hell itself to try to get him out if he thought he was alive. At one time Dean would have done the exact same thing for the older man in a heartbeat. Even quicker if it was Sam… to save his family… he wouldn’t hesitate at all…

Dean wasn’t sure he was that man anymore and the thought pained and shamed him.

When Castiel suggested he close his eyes, Dean nodded and did so. Even though he’d told the angel he’d like to come here again, Dean wasn’t sure he would. After all the bad memories he’d left here the place, as beautiful as it was, now seemed tainted somehow. No longer peaceful and beautiful, but shadowed somehow.

Or maybe that taint was just him.

_“Ready.”_   


* * *

Castiel waited until Dean actually told him he was ready before relocating them to Bobby's cabin.

"—get your feathered butt here right now and tell me where the hell—" Bobby was raging, glaring at the roof with such intensity as to melt ice and snow.

"I am here. With Dean. And my butt is not feathered. Only my wings," Castiel said, taking his hand from Dean's shoulder and turning to face Bobby. "Dean and I were sitting down by the waterfall where the fox lives. I thought he might like it there and I thought it best if I were elsewhere for a time. Dean supported my belief that my talk in the church could have gone better. If Alan wishes me to speak again—"

"No," Bobby said hastily. "Not for awhile, though there are some who would like to hear you talk about things from the bible," he said, shaking his head. He had to admit he would like to know what things Castiel had seen but the angel often seemed too damned aloof to approach, and uninterested in interacting with anyone except Dean.

"I am not a storyteller, but I will try if it is requested of me. Also, although I am Dean's guardian, I would offer my…assistance to any of this camp."

Bobby stared a moment at Castiel. "You mean…healing? You'd do that. Help others."

"Yes."

Bobby pulled off his hat and smoothed his hair and put his hat back on. "Y'know, at a battle, the angels don't hang around. Anyone who's hurt, we gotta patch 'em up as best we can and just hope they make it."

Castiel gave a slight nod. "We can easily heal our vessels. It isn't that they are turning their backs on you. It simply does not occur to them or they do not truly grasp the situation. And as we need no rest, often, when we are pulled from one battle, it is to go directly to another that is not faring as well." Castiel walked over and retrieved a mug. He waved his hand over it and steam began to curl from it. He brought it over and handed it to Dean. "It was cold out. I thought you might like something to warm you on the inside."

"Doesn't occur to them?" Bobby repeated, still trying to fathom it. "Doesn't occur to them?!"

"If you pull a fish from water, you see it gasping, but you can not fathom the degree of distress it may be in. You can not know, if you decide to return the fish to the water after you have caught it, how badly you may have injured it. You see some blood. You do not tend it. You simply return it to its normal environment, assuming it will recover on its own. It is too different from you for you to be able to…grasp what it is experiencing. We are not human. God did not give us emotions or empathy, at least, not of the same type as He granted you. We serve Him. We love Him. We fight for Him. We are willing to die for Him. There is no question. There is no choice. Or we can disobey and fall. We are then marked for death. We are as different from you as you are to a tree, or a bird, or a fish. Some of us…try harder…to grasp humans, than others, but our commanders order our attention turned elsewhere, we must go, we must obey. We can not stay and tend to the wounded."

Castiel looked between Bobby and Dean. "I can heal the sick and injured if requested to, but understand, if a reaper is near, I can not interfere unless the reaper indicates I may interfere. There is also only so much I can risk doing at one time without drawing the attention of demons. I must be discreet. Talk with who you need to, and decide on the order of those you want helped. I will help as many as I can until I feel I must stop for awhile. I may decide to wait a day, I may decide to wait a week in between healings."

"Reapers?" Bobby asked slowly then held up his hand. "No, don't wanna know, just don't wanna know. It would be best if you stay inside for a while I suspect."

Castiel nodded and went over to the desk and sat down, picking up a book to begin translating it. 

* * *

Castiel was right, it was a lot less disorientating ‘flying’ when he closed his eyes, though it still felt kinda like he’d had the wind knocked out of him. They arrived just in time to hear the tail end of Bobby’s tirade and Dean couldn’t help but grin in amusement in spite of himself, then outright laugh when the angel calmly replied that his ass didn’t have any feathers on it.

He didn’t know if Castiel did it intentionally but he was really glad when the angel went on to distract Bobby from asking him any questions. Like why he’d gone off without telling him, what he’d been doing, or why his eyes were red. Not that Bobby would pry or ask him questions Dean didn’t want to answer. But he simply felt so wrung out he just wanted to lay down and… shut down for a while.

So he only listened with half an ear as the angel and the older man talked. Sitting down on the edge of his cot to pull off his boots and shrug off his jacket. When Castiel offered to use his powers to help heal the sick and wounded Dean was surprised but pleased.

He knew firsthand how… effective an angel could heal. He’d been barely alive when he’d been dropped almost literally on Bobby’s doorstep. One touch and he was almost as good as new. Even old wounds, bones that had healed misaligned, old scars, were completely gone. He had no idea how much energy or whatever Castiel had spent healing him like that, but if he could help others around the camp it could make a big difference. Maybe people would stop looking at the angel like he would smite them at any moment.

Dean snorted softly to himself. A few hours ago he hadn’t been all that trustful of the angel and he’d spent the most time with Castiel since the guy barely left his side. So he couldn’t really expect others to.

The young man arranged his blankets on his cot and laid down, not bothering to undress further since he probably wouldn’t sleep all that long. 

* * *

"Dean, you feeling—" Bobby began but Castiel interrupted.

"The trip tired him and he had to listen to me talk about many things that he likely was not interested in or does not care to think about. He asked I bring him back so he could lie down. He is healthy, he is just tired," the angel said coolly, but kept his gaze on Bobby, as if making certain Bobby was going to leave Dean alone.

Bobby set his jaw but gave a slow nod. "All right," he said, but sounded anything but happy about it. "I'll go talk to the council about your offer t'help."

Castiel watched him as his gaze slipped to Dean and then back to the angel. Bobby finally gave a huff, grabbed his coat, and walked out.

Setting the book aside, Castiel kept a close watch on Dean, listening to his breathing slow, watching as his body began to relax. Once he was confident Dean had fallen asleep, Castiel became invisible to the human eye and took his station at the head of Dean's bed, letting Dean's head rest in his lap as he sang softly to him, soothing him with gentle touches from his hands and wings to keep the nightmares at bay. 


	5. Chapter 5

  
Dean napped through lunch but woke up in time for dinner. As usual he was surprised that he slept so well, especially considering all of the memories that had been dug up by his conversation with Castiel. Dean glanced at the angel sitting at the desk, translating again, wondering if Castiel had something to do with that, but he didn't say anything to the angel.   


  
  
He could tell that Bobby was still worried about him, despite the angel's earlier reassurances, so he didn't really mind when the older man finally cornered him and Dean confirmed to his friend that he was fine. Reassuring the older man that he'd only been tired earlier, and not to worry so much.

Yeah, it was a little bit of a lie. But Dean _was_ feeling surprisingly fine now. A lot more stable anyhow and not like he was going to burst into tears at any given moment. His reassurances seemed to satisfy the older man at least and the rest of the afternoon and evening proceeded pretty much normally.

The next morning Dean awoke with the dawn as usual, but also as usual he didn't get up right away. Preferring to watch the sun rise over the forest until he heard the sounds of Bobby moving around up in the loft and decided to finally drag himself out of the warmth of his blankets.

Breakfast was a lot less fancy, oatmeal and toast, but it was still a hundred times better than the slop that Dean had lived on for five years in the dungeons so he wasn't about to complain. After breakfast Dean headed off to the motor pool with Bobby while Castiel wandered off to the hospital. Apparently despite the angel's less than inspiring speech the day before the council agreed to let the angel start healing people. At least it would give the angel something to do while Dean was working.

When he got to the motor pool they spent a few minutes chatting with Zoey and Kent, or more accurately, Bobby talked and Dean stood there nodding at the correct times. Finally Bobby left, giving him looks that kind of reminded him of when his dad first dropped him off at kindergarten, and Dean got to work.

At first it wasn't easy. Sure, the work was easy enough, but all of the associated memories that went with it, weren't. Like helping his dad with the Impala, picking around Bobby's salvage yard for parts while Rumsfeld followed him around with a soggy tennis ball, teaching Sam how to do an oil change for the first time… A couple of times he'd needed to slip into the bathroom, just to be alone for a few minutes, while he waited for the overwhelming memories and emotions to pass.

But it gradually became easier; as Dean focused more on the work itself it became a little easier to ignore everything else. In hindsight that might not have been the best strategy. He'd been so focused picking through some of the old skeletons of cars for parts in the yard next to the motor pool that he had no idea he was no longer alone until he felt the blow to the back of his head.

His skull rang like he'd been knocked over the head by a lead pipe, hell, maybe he had been, he wasn't sure. Whatever it was it dropped him like a stone in an instant. He felt rough hands grabbing him, hauling him back up even though his legs wouldn't support him, but he was too dizzy and disorientated to fight back. The blow to his stomach doubled him over and knocked the wind out of him, but again he was yanked upright, rinse and repeat.

It was only after the third or fourth punch that he actually realized his attackers were saying something.

"… fucking…. Winchester… my family…"

Dean only heard snatches of the words through the ringing in his head, but it was enough.  
  


* * *

Zoey glanced around. "Kent? You seen Dean?"

Kent didn't even pull his head out from under the hood. "He's scavenging in the yard, seeing what's out there. Maybe he took a break. He went out there a while ago."

Zoey frowned. Bobby had told her that Dean knew a lot about cars, but that it might bring up some memories of before and that Dean might need some extra alone time for the first couple weeks. Told her to cut him some slack. The fact was, she wasn't a hard-ass about work. Both her and Kent loved working on engines. They loved it more than just about anything else and if she didn't set the firm rules of breaks and not working on the weekends, both she and Kent would work themselves to death. Still, she ought to check on Dean, make sure he hadn't fallen, gotten himself caught or pinned by shifting parts. He didn't have a voice so he couldn't yell for help if he had.

She walked out to the yard. "Dean? You okay out here? Make some noise so I know where you are."

Listening she didn't hear anything. She moved further into the yard and gasped when she saw Dean on the ground, the snow splattered with red. "Shit. Fuck, shit, fuck," Zoey cursed as she dashed over to his side.

She gasped when she saw his condition. He'd been beaten horribly, cut with a knife, and…shit, stabbed in the back. Near his heart or lung. She felt for a pulse and was almost shocked to find one.

"Kent! Dean's hurt! Dying maybe. Get help!" she yelled at the top of her lungs.

Kent banged his head on the hood of the truck as he straightened when she yelled.

He'd gone to church every Sunday when he was a kid. He knew how it worked. Or at least, how it was supposed to work. "Castiel, Dean's hurt," Kent said, bowing his head, clasping his hands and praying. "Angel Castiel, please come. Dean needs help."

Even knowing how it was supposed to work, and knowing angels were real, Kent still stumbled back when Castiel was suddenly in front of him. "Uh, out-outside." He stammered.

Castiel fly to the outside, smelling the blood feeling the panic of the woman, feeling Dean's pain, his weariness…his desire for it all to be over.

The sky exploded with lightning, electrical part that had no power jumped to life only to explode into sparks and smoke moments later. "Who did this?" Castiel demanded, his voice practically booming.

"I-I don't know. I just-just found him," Zoey said, holding a rag over the stab wound.

Castiel flicked his hand, sending the woman flying away a good twenty feet to land in a snowbank. He strode forward and scooped Dean up into his arms. The stench of hate reeked from Dean. He made careful note of the scents of the men who had done this. He disappeared with Dean to an abandoned cabin miles and miles from the camp. With a mere glance he started a fire in the fireplace and then laid Dean down on the bed. He touched his fingers to Dean's forehead, healing his injuries and putting Dean into a deep dreamless slumber.

When he returned to the camp, lightning filled the sky again, webbing across the dark clouds that had gathered. He found the four that had done this to Dean. They were chopping wood on the east side of camp. Castiel appeared before them, his shadow wings alight with electricity.

"You have sought vengeance on one who has done nothing but given his all to save the world. You blame him for your families. While you have been living in the sun these past five years, he has been in the pit of hell, tortured all of that time. While you ate venison, he ate maggots. While you slept in warmth, he slept naked in the cold. He has seen his father give up his soul to save his life. He has watched his brother do the same. He has suffered in ways you can not fathom. Or ways you would never have had to understand had you not done what you've done." In the blink of an eye he touched the foreheads of each man, giving them a small sample of what living souls suffered in hell. The men collapsed to the ground, screaming. "And now you will know the pain you caused him, save for the nearly lethal blade stabbed into his back." With a wave of his hand, all four men had injuries nearly identical to what had been done to Dean.

"He may have the information to save the world, and you attempt to kill him because his brother leads the demons," he spat. "I will heal no others in this camp. I will give no aid. I will not speak on your behalf to my brothers and sisters any more. Perhaps what some of them say is true. You are not worth saving."

With a final ear-rending clap of thunder and blaze of multiple lightning strikes, Castiel was gone, returning to Dean's side. Holding him, comforting him, begging forgiveness for failing him…

* * *

He felt… heavy.

That was the only word Dean could think of to describe it. Like his body weighed ten times its normal weight. There was no possible way he’d have the strength to move, so why should he even try? His thoughts felt thick and sluggish, flowing through his brain like cold molasses. He knew something was different. He knew something had happened. But it was simply too much effort to think. He felt tired. Exhausted. But at the same time he felt like he’d been sleeping for a long time already. Something told him it was time to wake up, but at the same time he didn’t want to.

_Cruel words. Anger. Pain._

The last thing Dean remembered was cold. Unbearably cold. His body felt frozen. His limbs refused to move. Not much different from now really, but at the same time very different. It wasn’t just the cold that kept him immobile it was the hurt. Every part of him hurt. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to live.

_A sharp pain in his back. He tasted blood in the back of his throat. He was falling._

Dean heard a soft voice speaking to him. Familiar. Warm. Comforting. Telling him it was going to be all right. Asking… asking him for forgiveness. Forgiveness? For what?

_Red. Bright red against white. So cold. Then darkness._

He heard the popping and hissing of moist wood burning. The faint smell of smoke. Pine. Something else that wasn’t unpleasant. Warm fingers brushing over his forehead and through his hair. It felt nice.

He really didn’t want to wake up, he didn’t want to open his eyes, but something continued to tug at him despite how he tried to ignore it. So he finally stopped resisting. It took a few tries but he finally managed to drag his eyes open slowly.

The first thing he saw… a face that was now quite familiar to him. Castiel… it was just everything else that was different. The room he was in looked a lot like the cabins in the camp. But it definitely wasn’t Bobby’s cabin. He was laying down on… a bed. Not a cot. And his head was pillowed, quite comfortably, in an angel’s lap.

Dean blinked owlishly up at the angel, his brain trying, and failing, to process everything. He couldn’t remember how he got here. Where was here anyway?

_“Where are we? What’s going on?”_ Dean ‘asked’ when he could finally manage a coherent thought. 

* * *

Dean pushed toward consciousness sooner than Castiel had expected, but he was obviously trying to throw off the healing sleep Castiel had placed him in. He didn't try to put Dean back to sleep. If Dean was ready to wake up, then certainly Castiel would let him.

"You are safe. We're in a long abandoned and forgotten cabin in the mountains. The stores are well stocked with food." Castiel continued to run his fingers gently through Dean's hair.

"As for what happened…four of the camp attempt to take vengeance on you for the death of their families, deaths you had no involvement in. They beat you and tried to kill you. I found you near death. I am sorry. I should not have diverted my attention from your protection. Those who caused you injury, I visited what they did to you on them, without the potentially lethal blade in the back. I also gave them a small taste of what a living soul in hell experiences. While they were warm, fed, had freedom to fight, experienced joys, you were in Hell. And yet they feel your death will somehow avenge their fallen loved ones?" Thunder rumbled. "They are fools. Their logic is flawed. They accomplished nothing but for me to retract my offer of aid to the camp, to be willing to protect the camp, and to speak on the behalf of humans," Castiel said bitterly. He had seen many terrible things through his thousands and thousands of years of life, and he did not understand why he reacted so violently to the injury of Dean. He could only rationalize that it was his job to protect Dean, his orders, and he had failed. Had Dean not suffered more than any one man should?

"When you are hungry or thirsty, merely tell me, and I will provide you with whatever you wish. I can provide you with more than what is in the cabinets if you have a specific desire. I have not made such an offer previously because I could not offer it to the entire camp. I had wished to minimize use of my abilities. To provide for just you will not draw undue attention though, so I will make such an offer now.

"How do you feel? Would you like to take a hot shower? This cabin has a cistern and I have started the fire under it that will provide you with a limited amount of hot water. The water should be hot enough by now. There is real coffee in the cupboards but…I do not know how to make coffee. You will have to instruct me if you would like some."

Castiel knew he was likely asking more questions and giving Dean more information than Dean could process at the moment, but he was immensely relieved that Dean had woken and hoped to make amends for failing his charge.

* * *

At first Dean could barely believe what the angel was telling him. It was almost easier to believe he was delusional or still too tired from just having woken up to hear Castiel correctly. Or maybe the angel was playing some kind of practical joke on him. Except that it wasn’t funny. Not in the least.

They weren’t even in the camp anymore? He’d been attacked? Castiel had done _what_?

He knew Castiel wasn’t lying to him, but as hard as he tried he couldn’t seem to recall the events that the angel was describing. He felt… fine now. A little weak maybe, and it was difficult to concentrate, probably the lingering effects of blood loss despite the fact that Castiel had healed him. Yeah, he was shocked that he’d been attacked, but hearing Castiel describe what he’d done to his attackers…

Dean never would have thought he’d feel sympathy for someone who’d knifed him in the back and left him for dead but… actually he wasn’t sure what he was feeling. But what he’d experienced as a prisoner in hell… Dean didn’t think he could wish that on anyone. But, hell, maybe he would feel differently if he could actually remember what had happened.

Before he could stop it the memory of what Sam had shown him, his brother’s body covered head to toe with horrible scars. The marks of Azazel’s ‘training’ Sam had called it. Dean remembered his thoughts then… that Sam had deserved it. Dean felt sick now remembering it. Even though he’d been in agony at the time from Sam’s torture and the younger man had only shown it to him in an attempt to curb his defiance. Mocking him. Showing him how pathetic his little acts of defiance, when he fought back, really were. But still…

Dean forced the thoughts away ruthlessly, turning his face into the gentle fingers touching him, focusing on Castiel’s voice as the angel babbled on about unimportant things like coffee and showers… even though the latter sounded kind of nice. He still couldn’t quite believe what Castiel had done… for him.

Even if the men deserved some punishment for trying to kill him in cold blood, he couldn’t imagine that little display had been well received. Maybe that’s why they were here. Had it been Bobby’s idea? To lay low for a while, until things settled down, before they went back. He supposed he couldn’t really blame the angel for wanting to retract his offer of help after that, but he couldn’t blame everyone for what a few had done. Maybe Castiel would change his mind.

_“A shower sounds good.”_ Dean finally admitted when the angel had stopped speaking and the young man realized Castiel was waiting for him to ‘say’ something. 

* * *

"I will ready it for you. Rest a bit longer while I do so. You should also eat. Consider what you might like to have after your shower. There are many canned goods of soups and stew and the boy-r-dee chef meals were apparently a favorite. There is pasta and cereals, jerky, vegetables, fruit both dried and canned, even some hard cheeses. I believe some of the clothing will fit you reasonably well."

Even as he talked, Castiel found himself continuing to run his fingers through the young man's hair, occasionally caressing his face. He found himself reluctant to get up, to leave Dean's side, even though he knew Dean was perfectly safe here.

After a few more moments Castiel finally cleared his throat. "Yes. Your shower. I must get up." He smoothly slipped out, seamlessly replacing his lap with a pillow to cradle Dean's head. Castiel walked over to a door which he opened. He gaze roved over the shelves reading the labels on the metal boxes until he found the soap and shampoo, a washcloth and a couple towels in sealed packages. Not surprisingly, rodents had not managed to chew through the metal boxes.

Out of the clothing section, he selected a thick grey woolen sweater, heavy dark blue denim pants, briefs, wool socks, and a pair of practically new boots. He wasn't certain what the "thermal underwear" was for, but pulled out a package of both a long sleeved shirt and a pair of tight fitting pants. He carried everything to small room by the fireplace, setting the clothes and towels on the bench by the door. Stepping into the room, he turned the valve to open the drain, then opened another valve that filled a large container in the ceiling. He opened one more valve and it took a moment but hot water began to rain from a circular series of holes in the ceiling. The water seemed a bit too warm so Castiel cracked open the final valve. Nodding to himself and seeing the water was now running clean, he shut off the water.

Castiel returned to the main room. "The shower is ready," he said, offering a hand to Dean.

* * *

Dean gave a slight nod of understanding, his eyes slipping closed once more even before the angel got up. He still felt tired enough to sleep for a week. Maybe that was why he didn’t examine too closely the fact that he’d woken up being practically cradled in Castiel’s lap. Or that once the angel was gone he kind of… missed it. The feeling of the angel’s fingers running almost tenderly through his hair. It was easier not to think about it.

Shower. Food. That was easy to think about. Maybe soup would be the best. His head was still really groggy and he didn’t really trust his stomach. That would probably be the easiest to keep down. And coffee. Maybe that would wake him up. After his shower. That would be good.

Dean listened to the angel moving around the room, rummaging through things, but he didn’t open his eyes again until he heard Castiel beside him once more. He reached out and took the angel’s offered hand, knowing he’d need the help and not feeling stubborn enough right now to refuse it.

The feeling of vertigo he felt when Castiel helped him to his feet wasn’t unexpected. The feeling of his shirt sticking to his back was. Dean frowned in mild disgust, looking down at the bed, a rather large patch of dried blood where he’d been laying and he winced slightly. He was feeling less and less sympathy for those men all the time.

_“I’ve got it.”_ He told the angel with a nod of thanks before heading into the room himself, as much as he appreciated Castiel’s help until now this was something he could handle on his own. The shower was about as simple an affair as you could get but Dean wasn’t about to complain. He stripped off his clothes, feeling kind of like an old man as carefully as he moved. Even though there wasn’t any real pain there was still a certain kind of stiffness in his muscles. Maybe the shower would help with that too. He pointedly refused to examine the tear in the back of his blood stained shirt as he let it drop to the floor.

Once he’d stripped down Dean turned on the valve to start the water flowing and gave a sigh as the hot water started to rain down. He wished he could take his time and really enjoy it, but he knew the hot water wouldn’t last forever. So he picked up the bar of soap and started washing as best he could. Hot showers really were a luxury he’d taken for granted.

He remained in the shower until the water began to run lukewarm then finally turned the valves off. He had to admit he felt a lot better now. A little more awake at least even though he was still a little unsteady. Dean opened the door and stepped out, grabbing the towel that Castiel had left for him. He dried off quickly and pulled on the clothes a bit surprised how well they fit. Sweaters were never really his thing, but his one was soft and warm and he didn’t mind it. Dean sat down on the bench to tug on the thick socks but he left the boots off since he wasn’t planning on going outside any time soon.

Feeling clean and comfortable he looked around for the angel.

_“How’s Bobby doing?”_ Dean asked, worried about his friend. He knew the older man probably hadn’t taken his attack and near death very well. Dean was actually a bit surprised that Bobby wasn’t here, that he hadn’t insisted that the angel take him along to look after him. Of course this was probably only temporary. 

* * *

Castiel knew coffee involved hot water, so he put some water in a pot and swiveled the hook he hung it on into the fire to heat. He found a pitcher next to the coffee that had a metal sieve type container that sat on top of it. He examined the pitcher and saw the word "drip-a-lator" printed on the bottom of it. After rinsing out the pitcher, he studied it and thought he understood how it worked. The coffee went in the metal sieve and then the water and it dripped through, creating the coffee. He read the coffee container to see how much coffee to use and carefully measured it out. When the water was boiling, he used a measuring cup to make sure he only put in as much water as he had accounted for. Letting the coffee drip into the pitcher, he rummaged through the cupboards and found some food that he thought Dean might consider appetizing.

He lined everything up neatly on the counter, rinsed out a bowl and cleaned some silverware. He had found some yeast and with it, a recipe for making bread. It seemed simple enough. Perhaps he would try making some if Dean wanted him to.

He heard the shower turn off and went to the coffee pot and poured a cup. He took a sip of it. Not quite as bitter as what he had tasted before, but it was fairly similar all the same and he thought Dean would approve of it. He poured a cup for Dean, then added some sugar to his own cup of coffee.

When Dean walked into the room, Castiel waved Dean to come over to where he had what he thought were the prime meal selections though there were several boxes in there of something called Meals Ready to Eat or M.R.E.s. He suspected Dean would want to start out with something small for the moment. He still wasn't eating a whole lot, even after two weeks.

"Bobby?" Castiel said. He gave a slight shake of his head as he handed Dean the coffee. "Kent told me you had been injured. I came to the yard where you were dying, saved you, punished those who had done this, and then informed those there that I am done offering assistance to the camp. Doing so compromises my ability to protect you. I collected you and brought you here. Bobby was not present."

* * *

Dean smelled the coffee and he found Castiel in the kitchen area. Guess the angel figured it out on his own without Dean’s help. Not that coffee was all that complicated anyway. He took the offered mug with a nod of thanks. But before he could even take a sip of the coffee the angel began to fill in the gaps of what happened when Dean had been unconscious and Dean froze, the mug halfway to his lips.

Castiel had just… brought him here. Without telling anyone. Without consulting anyone. Without even letting Bobby know he was all right. That he was alive. Why the hell was he even surprised? The worst thing was that Dean couldn’t even blame anyone but himself. He was the idiot here. It was stupid of him to assume that the god damn angel would act _human_.

That didn’t stop Dean from getting angry though. Glaring at the angel he set his mug down on the shelf roughly, a bit of the hot liquid sloshing over onto his hand but not really caring.

_“Take me back. Now.”_ Dean ordered. 

* * *

Castiel's brow furrowed when instead of sampling the coffee he was proud he had managed to make, Dean glared at him. Dean was obviously angered by his actions. When he demanded Castiel return him, the angel protested. "It is dangerous there for you. My duty is to protect you and I failed. You are safe here. There is abundant food, hot water, warmth, comfort…."

Giving a rather un-angelic sigh, Castiel almost reluctantly set the coffee down. "As you wish. Collect your boots and we will return to that camp. We may not be welcome there any longer. As I told you, I exacted vengeance on those who did this to you. When I left with you, I left them with the same injuries they gave you, except for the near fatal knife wound. If the camp feels your beating was justified, then my vengeance will be viewed as…inappropriate. They already fear me. It will likely be much worse now."

Castiel straightened. "Understand, Dean, I will not tolerate another such attack on you. Nor will I tolerate disrespect shown to me. As harm to humans is not what I wish, if you are attacked again, or they are foolish enough to attempt to cause me harm, I _will_ relocate you and we will _not_ return to the camp a second time. Putting you in Bobby's care was Gabriel's doing. When I was charged with your safety, they did not require I leave you there." He flicked his hand, extinguishing the fire in the fireplace then leveled his now icy gaze on Dean. "Tell me when you are ready."

* * *

For a moment Dean thought the angel was going to refuse to take him back. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was going to do if that happened. The insane idea of _walking_ back to the camp by himself if the angel refused to take him back popped into his head, and Dean refused to listen to the rational part of his brain telling him it was stupid and foolish. He didn’t even know where he was much less which direction the camp was, not that it wouldn’t stop him all the same. Thankfully it didn’t come to that.

Dean’s angry glare at the angel didn’t dissipate however even when Castiel agreed to take him back. He was pissed off at the angel and would likely be for some time.

He couldn’t believe what that angel had done. Bobby must be going out of his mind!

Unfortunately Dean hadn’t so much as turned to gather his boots when Castiel gave his little ultimatum and the young man froze. Sure he’d been pissed off at the angel already. For his sheer stupidity. But that was nothing compared to what Dean felt now as Castiel so casually ‘informed’ him he didn’t give a shit what Dean wanted, not really, he only cared about his ‘mission’. Reminding him he could cart Dean around wherever the hell he wanted and there wasn’t a damned thing Dean could do about it. Reminding Dean he was nothing more than a prisoner in a shiner cage than he had been for the last five years. At least for the time being.

His hands curled into fists at his side and he wasn’t thinking anymore as he whirled on the angel and hit him as hard as he could across the jaw. It took him a moment to realize that the blow hadn’t even phased the angel. That his attack was about as effective as punching a brick wall, and with much the same results. That his knuckles were now bleeding and that crack he’d heard was probably a bone or two in his hand. The pain was practically an afterthought.

Dean’s angry expression didn’t budge an inch as he glared at the angel in front of him.

_“I am not your fucking slave. If you take me **anywhere** without my say so I’ll fucking kill myself. Then so much for your fucking mission.” _ Dean threw at Castiel, and any other angel who might be listening in for that matter. He was done being a pawn. Then Dean turned away from Castiel in disgust and stomped off to get his boots. 

* * *

Surprise was the first reaction Castiel had to the human's attempt to injure him. He opened his mouth to tell Dean that he could simply bring Dean back from the dead, but he decided against it. One, Dean might be less angry if he thought he had some form of control. Two, it was still unknown what the deal was, what the part of the contract written on Dean's neck, represented. It was entirely possible Dean had traded his soul, and then bringing him back could be more difficult if the hellhounds got to his soul first. Best he permit Deant o believe his 'threat' was effective.

"Of course you are not my slave. I have no need or desire for a slave. You are my charge. It rests on me to protect you from any threat. It would seem, as I am submitting to your will, that 'slave' would be a more apt description for my position, as you order me to do something and expect me to obey.

He shook his head. "You were not angry with me until I informed you Bobby is unaware of your location. The error was failing to inform him? Why? It is certainly common knowledge that I took you. It is almost as certain known what was done to you. If he is concerned about your welfare, would he not want you safe? Why do you wish to be returned to the camp rather than have Bobby brought to here while you continue to regain your strength?" 

* * *

Dean ignored the angel’s comments and questions as he grabbed his boots and sat down on the bench to put them on. He would have loved to curse out the bastard further but ‘yelling’ in his head wasn’t nearly as satisfying as shouting aloud. Which is what Dean really wanted to do, but he couldn’t, and it only frustrated him more.

He yanked on his boots. The throbbing in his hand was getting worse, making it a little difficult to tie the laces, but he’d had worse. A lot worse.

Once he was fully dressed Dean got up and reluctantly approached the angel again. He wished he didn’t have to, but every time Castiel had ‘flown’ him somewhere before he had to touch him. Dean didn’t want the bastard touching him now, or ever again. He didn’t even want to look at him right now, much less ‘talk’ to him.

But he was afraid that if he didn’t tell the dick he was ready, like Castiel instructed him, then they wouldn’t go anywhere.

_“Ready.”_ Dean snapped, crossing his arms over his chest.

Bobby was right. All angels were dicks.

* * *

Castiel stared at Dean, waiting for answers, but it appeared the human was not going to give him any. Humans could be so…irritating. How was he to understand if no one would explain to him and answer what seemed to him to be perfectly logical questions? He was certain if Dean was this angry with him, the other humans that were Dean's friends would be as well.

He was in no mood to listen to the humans rant at him once he returned Dean. They were not his concern. Only Dean. He would not be dressed down for performing his job. It was helping the other humans that had created the situation in the first place. If he had not been healing those in the infirmary, he would have been at Dean's side and the four men would have never approached Dean. He would make it clear to any who showed any wrath toward him or Dean that it would not be tolerated.

Castiel touched Dean's arm, healed his hand, then flew them back to the camp, to Bobby's cabin. The cabin was empty. "He is in the Mess, as are Ellen, Kent and Zoey."

He saw Dean's coat lying on the couch. He picked it up and held it out wordlessly to Dean.

* * *

When the angel touched his arm the pain in his hand faded, and for some reason it only angered Dean more. Maybe it was because he knew the only reason the bastard had done it was because it was his ‘job’. Castiel didn’t give a damned what he thought or felt. All his talk in the woods… acting like he actually _cared_ about him. Then threatening to take him away from the only family he had left without Dean having a say in it one way or another.

Thankfully the trip was just as quick as the previous times Castiel had done it, and even though it left him feeling unsteady Dean stepped away from the angel as soon as he could. It was a relief to be back in Bobby’s home even if Bobby himself wasn’t there. He hadn’t really expected the older man to be there. If his friend wasn’t already out looking for him somehow then he was probably planning some way to find him.

He didn’t feel any gratitude towards the angel when Castiel informed him where to find his friend. He merely threw another angry glare at the angel and knocked his hand away.

_“Don’t ever touch me again.”_ Dean ordered, turned away, and stormed out of the cabin. _“Just go away.”_

He knew it was probably too much to hope that the angel would actually listen to him and leave them alone but he could always hope. Outside the camp looked practically deserted. He supposed it wasn’t all that surprising. Given what had happened everyone was probably afraid of fire and brimstone raining down from the sky at any second. Then again it was dark, and cold, outside. Maybe people were just trying to get away from the chill.

Dean jogged down the path that would take him to the mess hall. It was only once he neared the structure that he heard the first signs of life in the camp, voices inside. Everything sounded normal. He hoped that was a good sign as he opened the door. 

* * *

When Bobby had been told the angel had taken Dean away, he nearly lost it. He'd told that damned angel that Dean didn't go anywhere without talking to him. When Zoey told him _why_ Castiel had taken Dean away, Bobby wanted to kill those four bozos himself. The council had met and there had been words. A lot of words. A lot of yelling. Things were still pretty damned tense.

The angel had been healing folk. A teenage boy who couldn't walk, he was walking, hell _running_ now because of the angel. A girl who had been possessed, torn up, gotten a lot off in the head, Castiel had helped. She weren't perfect by any stretch, but she wasn't lying in that cot, staring at the ceiling, pissing herself any more. She was still jumpy, but she responded to people now. Talked. Ate. Bathed herself. And he'd healed dozens of broken bones, or tore up bodies that didn't want to work right, saved a couple people from surgeries they might not have survived. And those four idjets fucked it up for everyone. With Dean under the angel's protection, and Dean being in the camp, everyone had potentially been safe. Now…hell, for the show of power and anger the angel put on, it might have attracted demons from miles around.

That had been another concern of the council. Whether or not they needed to relocate because of Castiel's wrath.

Bobby hadn't been eating, but Ellen finally dragged him to the mess hall to make him, regardless of his protests. He'd been cursing and praying for that damned angel ever since the feathered dick had stolen Dean away. He just wanted to know Dean was okay. Was that too damned much to ask? Apparently, because the angel was ignoring him.

It took Bobby a moment to realize something was amiss, that the mess had fallen silent. Looking around for the source of the cause as he reach for his pistol, his eyes widened.

"Dean!" Bobby yelled and pushed away from the table, rushing over to him and pulling him into a big bear hug. "Had us worried sick. Are you okay?"

* * *

When Dean opened the door everything seemed perfectly normal. The mess hall was packed as it usually was around dinnertime. People were lined up getting food. Sitting together at tables, talking. Just… normal. For a moment Dean could believe that maybe Castiel had made the whole damned thing up. That nothing had happened.

That little fantasy lasted only as long as he was noticed standing there by the people at the table closest to the door who immediately froze and fell silent. Gradually that silence spread until the entire room was utterly quiet. Everyone staring at him. Some with hostility. Some with fear. Like he’d brought the devil himself with him.

Maybe Castiel had a point…

But then the silence was broken by Bobby’s shout, making Dean jump a little, much to his shame. But seeing his friend, the relief in the older man's eyes as he rushed over to him. It was worth it. Dean hugged Bobby back when the older man embraced him. Nodding in answer to his question.

Yeah, he was fine. For the most part. A little unsteady and weak still, but fine. He wished he could tell his friend that, but Dean had no idea where his writing slate had gotten to in this whole fiasco. So instead he merely smiled at the older man, hoping that would be enough to reassure him. 

* * *

"C'mon, Dean, let's get you back home. I'll have the mess send dinner over. Your slate is back there anyhow and I need a run down of what happened, where you've been. The council will need to know."

Bobby didn't want to have Dean out and about, fully exposed to most of the camp like he was right now in the mess. There were those who were grateful for the angel's help, but too many others were scared out of their wits. They just wanted to be left alone and bury their heads in the snow, like everything would just magically go away.

Giving a glance at Ellen, Ellen gave a nod back to Bobby. She'd bring them food and drink, after she listened in to the aftermath of gossip in the wake of their leaving the building.

"Where's your coat, Dean? You shouldn't be out in the cold without a coat," Bobby scolded him like an old mother hen and turned Dean, guiding him outside. "You sure you're okay? Can't believe those four idjets thought attacking you would help anything. Especially knowing full good and well you're under the angels' protection. We're lucky Castiel didn't just decide to wipe us all off the map to keep knowledge about your existence safe. It's happened before. You don't go pissing off angels iffen you can help it. Those four idjets are laid up in the infirmary and I have to say, ain't no one gone out of their way to make their stay comfortable."

Dean didn't need to know there were many in the camp who had been relieved when it was discovered the angel was gone. He would try to shield Dean from words or comments as best he could. "Kent and Zoey feel plum awful about what happened. Since that dick of an angel is back, least he can fix Zoey's arm. He may have planted her in a snow bank when he moved her away from you, but it was still a good twenty feet away and she tried to catch herself when she landed. Dislocated her shoulder and sprained her wrist. I'm assuming Castiel brought you back?" 

* * *

When Bobby suggested they return to the older man’s cabin, Dean was all too happy to agree. It wasn’t like he wanted to be around people right now. If he hadn’t been so eager to see Bobby, and reassure the older man that he was all right, he might have been happy to stay hidden away at Castiel’s cabin for a while. At least until things had settled down. Now though… now things were complicated.

Dean rolled his eyes a little at Bobby’s scolding, but truth was he was more than a little cold. Yeah it was stupid of him to have left without his coat, no matter how pissed off he was at the angel. But just the thought of taking anything from him…

Especially when Bobby went on to describe how some angels might have just wiped out the whole camp instead of just spiriting him away. Dean swallowed hard. As though he needed any reminders of how dangerous angels could be. How unpredictable. How they couldn’t be trusted.

If Castiel had done that, murdered everyone, Bobby, Ellen… Dean wasn’t sure what he would have done. There was nothing really he _could_ do, and that was perhaps the most frightening thing of all.

He was lucky that Castiel had brought him back. Damned lucky.

At least it was good to know that no one was feeling much sympathy for the one’s who’d attacked him. Dean wouldn’t have been surprised for the whole affair to somehow be spun around to make Dean the cause of all this trouble. Well, maybe in a way it was true. If he wasn’t here than neither would Castiel be, and none of this would have happened, but…

Dean nodded at Bobby’s question, confirming that Castiel had brought him back. Not that the angel had wanted to. As they neared the cabin Dean found his footsteps slowing almost instinctively. Realizing he was going to have to face the angel again and not really wanting to right now. 

* * *

Bobby saw that Dean had slowed down, eyeing the cabin as if he'd prefer not to go back inside. "You and Castiel get into it, did you?" Bobby asked. "Don't worry. I'll bark at him a few times. I'm pissed at him ignoring me all this time. Told the dick he wasn't to take you anywhere without telling me. So I got a few words to speak to him. You need to get inside and sit your butt down by the fireplace. I'll stoke it up, get some extra heat in there for you. You ain't got a lick of fat on you, son. You have got to be cold all the time."

Bobby opened the door, but the cabin appeared empty. "Castiel, you dick, where the hell are you? I got a few words I wanna have with you!" Glancing around, Bobby finally gave a "Hunh" and let Dean into the cabin. As promised, he tossed some wood on the embers and stirred up the fire. Once it was going, he shook open an old army green wool blanket and wrapped in around Dean's shoulder.

"Castiel?" Bobby called again, and did a search of the cabin. "Well, he appears to have disappeared again. Don't worry, Dean, you getting jumped, that ain't gonna happen again." He handed Dean his slate. "Okay, so fill me in while I get a few things together. Start writing."

*

Castiel had stayed beside Dean on his jog to the mess, being invisible. Dean might not want his protection, but Dean had no say in the matter. His well-being was Castiel's job. He listened to all the whispers of those in the mess when Dean arrived. Some were hopeful that Castiel would start healing again, but many cursed Dean's return. He shook his head. It was not Dean's fault and couldn't deny feeling a little wrath stirring inside him at the way they spoke of Dean but he did nothing.

Following back to the cabin, he continued to stay invisible, even when Bobby called for him. Dean was angry with him. He felt it best he remain unseen.

* * *

Dean winced a little and nodded as Bobby correctly guessed his reluctance to return to the cabin. His reluctance bordering on fear only increased however when the older man stated flat out he wanted to have a few words with the angel. He remembered what Castiel had said back at the cabin. How he wouldn't tolerate anyone disrespecting him. He was worried that Castiel might hurt Bobby if the older man started yelling at the angel. Or Castiel would make good on his threat and take Dean away again, and this time he wouldn’t bring him back, and there wasn’t a god damned thing he could do about it.

But there wasn’t a damned way he could relay his fears to Bobby, to warn him, and that frustrated Dean to no end.

So it was with no small amount of relief when they entered the cabin to find it empty. His shivering wasn’t entirely due to the cold, but Dean wasn’t going to protest when Bobby sat him down by the fire and wrapped a blanket around him. He warmed his chilled fingers by the fire while Bobby quickly searched the cabin and he nodded in thanks when the older man returned with his slate.

His hands were still shaking a little as he started to write, and that probably wasn’t due to the cold either. He hoped Bobby assumed it was.

_I woke up in a cabin. I don’t know where. He told me what happened. At first I thought it was your idea. To lay low for a while. But when I asked about you I realized he didn’t tell you. He just took off without letting you know where I was or that I was ok. I got pissed. Told him to bring me back. He almost didn’t._

Dean stopped writing, using the excuse of having to erase the slate for more room to write to gather his thoughts a little. Castiel’s threats were still fresh in his mind and the fear that went with them wouldn’t so easily dissipate.

_He said some things. Please, don’t make him mad. I’m afraid he’ll hurt you. He threatened to take me away again if anyone disrespected him or he thought I was in danger._

Dean scoffed a little even as he wrote it. The only person right now he felt in danger from was Castiel. 

* * *

Bobby sat down beside Dean and read over Dean's answers. Giving a sigh along with a slow shake of his head he put his arm over Dean's shoulders and gave him a one armed hug.

"Taking you elsewhere, yeah, I might have suggested that if he'd asked, especially with him injuring those four shits that hurt you. Dean, the angel don't answer to me but we'll have to convince him that I need to know where you are, that we're family and you don't do that, leave family out to dry like he did. He doesn't understand and we just have to explain it to him. Yeah, I was pulling my hair out and I don't have that much hair to lose, dammit." Bobby gave Dean a smile.

"Don't you worry about the angel, okay? When I give him a piece of my mind, I'll be polite about it. And no, as much as I'd like at times, I won't use a two by four on him to try to get it through his thick angelic head that he can't just run off with you like that. If you are in danger though, I'd rather not know where you are and have you safe, than him leave you here and you get hurt. If he runs off with you again, convince him to send me and angel-gram or carrier pigeon or something that lets me know you're okay." Bobby gave his shoulders a light squeeze and asked softly. "He scares you, doesn't he?"

* * *

Bobby’s arm around his shoulders was a welcome weight right now and he leaned into the older man’s warmth a little before he realized it. He’d come so close to losing Bobby. If Castiel hadn’t brought him back, there was a good chance that he’d never see the older man again. Dean wasn’t sure he could handle that. He’d already lost everything else. His whole family. Himself. Everything. He couldn’t lose Bobby too. He just couldn’t.

But Dean wasn’t all that sure if explaining things to the angel would do any damned good. The guy seemed to have no concept of feelings. Did he even have feelings at all? At least in the human sense of the term? Maybe not. He’d made it quite clear, to all of them, that he _wasn’t_ human after all. How could they expect him to understand human emotions then?

Even with Bobby’s reassurances he still kind of wished the older man would just leave it be. If the angel showed up again… maybe he wouldn’t. Dean had told Castiel to leave him alone, after all, and now he’d disappeared. Though that seemed unlikely given how Terminator he was about following his orders regarding ‘protecting’ Dean. It made Dean kind of nervous, not knowing where the angel was, even though he was also glad he wasn’t around right now.

Yeah, he understood why Bobby would say he’d rather he be safe, even if its not here. Dean probably would feel the same if their positions were reversed. But he didn’t like hearing it now. Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that and there wouldn’t be any more reasons for the angel to think he needed to spirit him away to keep him ‘safe’.

When Bobby asked him if he was scared of Castiel, Dean wasn’t sure how to answer that. He had been at first, but then he’d been scared of just about everyone besides Bobby and Ellen. But that day in the clearing he hadn’t been scared of Castiel. In fact, just the opposite, he’d felt safe in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time. He’d felt the same way when he first woke up in that cabin, the way Castiel had been holding him, his head in the angel’s lap, running his fingers through his hair…

Dean flushed a little at the memory before he could help it.

But then afterwards, once he’d realized what Castiel had done, his threats, reminding Dean just how powerless he was and at the angel’s complete mercy. Or lack of it if he chose…

Dean took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

_Sometimes._ He wrote, shrugging a little. Sometimes he wished things weren’t so complicated.

* * *

Castiel read Dean's words, felt the emotions going through him and listened to Bobby as Bobby tried to soothe the young man. Once again he had conveyed poorly those things he wished to convey to the human. He had never meant to imply he wouldn't bring Dean back here, merely that he wasn't certain it was a wise idea. He would have much rather taken Bobby to the cabin. It seems that Bobby would have approved of that. As Castiel had surmised, it was his failure to tell the older man where Dean was and that Dean was safe that caused the upset. Dean seemed uncommonly upset and he didn't understand why.

Although it was something of a breach of protocol, Castiel stepped outside and called to the arch angel Gabriel. If anyone might explain things to him, it would be Gabriel. Within a few minutes Gabriel was there.

Castiel told Gabriel everything and waited anxiously for answers.

Gabriel rolled his eyes and dry-scrubbed his face. "Castiel, how long have you been stationed on Earth? And you haven't learned any of this?"

Castiel felt his face flush. "I didn't realize—"

"Yeah, yeah. Look. Humans like to be in charge. Or like to think they're in charge. Anything bigger and badder comes along, they run and cower or stand and fight, even if they know they're going to get squashed if they do that. Dean-o is all," he whistled, twirling his eyes, "cuckoo in the head right now. Bobby is the only one he feels safe around. Bobby's all he's got left of before. If you want his co-operation—"

"Yes, very much," Castiel said quickly.

"—then don't threaten taking him away from Bobby, or hurting Bobby, or anyone here. Course then they're going to think you're a wuss, which you would be." Gabriel gave him a momentary smile. "Castiel, don't try to figure them out. They'll just make your head hurt. Try to play nice and if they get out of line, don't give them any threats or warning and just put them back in their place when you've had enough. Capice?"

"Yes. All right. I will try. Would you know if Dean's father made it out of hell?"

"Herr Winchester? Yeah, when the gate got popped, he slipped out. He's up there somewhere with his lady ever after. Castiel, just loosen up, don't look like you're…constipated or something all the time, and try to enjoy your time here. Don't know how much longer it might be." Without further comment, Gabriel snapped his fingers and disappeared from Castiel's view. With a sigh, Castiel returned to Bobby's cabin, made himself visible, and paused at the door. After a moment of hesitation, he knocked. That was the polite thing to do as he understood it. 

* * *

Dean tensed and looked up when he heard the knock on the door. He’d expected it to be Ellen or someone else from camp. Castiel was probably the last person he’d expected to see standing there.

Yeah, he knew the angel would show up again sooner or later. It wasn’t that. It was the fact that he’d fucking _knocked_ that threw him off. He didn’t think the angel had _ever_ knocked since he’d been here. Usually he just popped in and out wherever he pleased.

Sure, more recently he’d started being a little more courteous. Like announcing when he arrived because he had scared the hell out of Dean one too many times just appearing out of nowhere, and Dean had told him off. Well, as much as he could with a slate and chalk.

But after what had happened, how the angel had made it clear he could do whatever the hell he wanted regardless of their wishes or so called free will, the last thing he expected was Castiel to _knock_. As though he really wanted, or needed, their permission to enter. They couldn’t exactly throw him out.

Dean looked from the angel to Bobby and then turned away to look at the fire. Rubbing his hands together in front of it to warm them and to hide how they still shook. 

* * *

"May I enter?" Castiel asked Bobby.

"Depends. You going to run off with my boy again?"

Castiel hesitated. "If he is in danger, yes, but I will…bring you along, or inform you of Dean's well-being. I did not mean to upset either you or Dean. We…angels…often know the health of those we are closest to. We don't need to be told. That you would not know, that you would fear for his well-being, it was not something I considered. I apologize for…my lack of perception. May I enter?" he repeated.

Bobby gave a small huff, but stepped back, letting the angel in. "No running off with him without telling me. And if I tell you he needs to stay, unless you know something I don't, he stays. And if you do know something I don't—"

"But I know many thousands of things you don't," Castiel interrupted.

"I mean," Bobby said, exasperation coloring his tone, "if you know a reason that he needs to up and disappear right then and don't have the chance to tell me why, you get back with me as soon as," he waved his hand, "angelically possible and fill me in on the happenings."

"Yes. Agreed," Castiel said. Walking over in front of Dean he knelt and clasped Dean's hands in his own as he bracketed Dean with his wings and put forth peace and reassurance through them, hoping to ease Dean's concerns. "Please forgive me Dean. I am slow to understand at times and you are quick to anger. It makes a…difficult situation worse. Please try to be patient with me. If you would have explained my error, I would have rectified it. I said things poorly, I am certain. If I fear for your welfare, I will take you away from here, at least for a short time until the situation can be remedied. I will retrieve Bobby or Ellen, or whomever you wish, or communicate with them your welfare."

Giving Dean's hands a slight squeeze, he added softly, "I did ask about your father and was told that your father escaped Hell when the gate was opened. He is in Heaven with your mother. I hope that brings you some comfort."

* * *

Dean kept his attention on the dancing flames in front of him, pretending not to listen to Bobby and the angel speaking by the door when just the opposite was true. He was completely focused on every word the two spoke. Worried what Bobby would say. Worried even more what Castiel would say, or do. But it was easier to pretend he didn’t hear them. That he wasn’t there as they talked about him.

Bobby kept his word. He was polite about giving the angel a piece of his mind. More or less. Castiel… seemed genuinely contrite as he apologized for what he’d done. Dean wasn’t sure if he believed him or not. He wasn’t sure of much of anything right now.

Dean almost laughed at himself. Castiel had said himself that he had no reason to lie. That he could do and say whatever he wanted and there was nothing any of them could do to stop him. He had proved that much…

So why was he apologizing now? What did he care that he’d scared the crap out of all of them?

Then suddenly the angel was kneeling in front of him, taking his hands in his own, and before Dean could pull away he felt frozen in place. Not by fear. Something else. It was like a warm wind washed over him. Comforting. It felt like he had when he’d woken up in Castiel’s lap in the cabin. It felt like every morning when he woke up and watched the sunrise…

He felt safe.

Dean frowned. As confused by himself as he was by the angel kneeling in front of him practically begging for his forgiveness. Then the angel chose that moment to drop another bomb on him.

His father… Dean’s eyes widened in surprise and filled with tears. But for once they weren’t tears of grief. Knowing that his father’s soul had escaped from hell, was in heaven, with his mom… It was a comfort, even if it was a sad comfort. At least his father was at peace. Even though his sacrifice had been in vain, at least his dad no longer suffered for it.

Dean felt the tears slide down his cheeks and he bowed his head to hide them. His breath hitched and he swallowed hard, fighting back the urge to crumble into a blubbering mess as he had so often before. Determined not to fall apart right now.

_“Thank you.”_

* * *

Castiel's face changed from looking peaceful to looking concerned. "Have I said things poorly again?" he asked, frustration clear in his words. "I did not mean to upset you. I thought it would be good news."

Bobby stepped forward. "It is good news. It's just, well, the people who die, we miss. Even knowing they're in a good place, we're selfish, wishing they were back with us. We're happy for them, but sad we don't get to see 'em anymore. I imagine Dean's real 'ppreciative of the news. Look, Castiel, it's been a might bit stressful for Dean these past few days, hell, past few hours. Why don't you leave him in peace for a bit."

Castiel placed his hand along Dean's jaw and gently lifted Dean's head so their gazes could meet. "It will get better. I have faith it will." He wiped away one track of tears with his thumb. Slowly rising, he planted a light kiss on Dean's cheek. "I have faith enough for both of us if need be. I will be at the desk if you…need anything."

* * *

Dean could tell his reaction upset the angel. He hadn’t meant to. He was glad when Bobby stepped in to explain things to Castiel. Dean didn’t think he could have.

It _was_ good news. To know that his father wasn’t cursing his name while he was strapped to the rack in hell, being tortured by the likes of Alistair. To know that his father’s soul was no longer in danger of becoming a demon. But it still didn’t change the fact that his father had died, sold his soul to Azazel, in order to save his life. And Dean had failed his father’s last request. To protect Sam. To keep him from going dark side. And if he couldn’t…

So… yeah… he was glad he didn’t have to explain all that to the angel and he was even more grateful to the older man’s suggestion to let him rest up a bit. Stressed… that was such a fucking understatement right now.

The gentle touch to his face surprised Dean a bit, but he didn’t fight them. Looking up into Castiel’s eyes and feeling himself flush a little. It all felt strangely… intimate. The way the angel was looking at him. Touching his face. Then Dean forgot how to breathe when Castiel leaned in and he felt the brush of the angel’s warm lips across his cheek.

Was this… an angel thing? Dean managed a slight nod before Castiel returned to his seat at the desk. He knew his face was so red it probably looked sunburned. Dean coughed softly in embarrassment and avoided looking at Bobby as he turned his attention back to the fireplace. It seemed the… safest place to look right now.

He definitely wasn’t feeling cold anymore though, that much was for sure. 

* * *

"Least he didn't pinch your cheek like a vise like my old Aunt Nelly did," Bobby murmured to Dean, pleased to see Dean blushing. It was the first emotion he'd seen from Dean that was…normal. Not extreme or intense. Maybe it wasn't _Dean-normal_ because, well, Bobby couldn't recall ever seeing that boy blush, but it was _human-normal_ , and that was just fine with him.

Hearing someone at the door, Bobby hurried over and found Ellen there with food for Dean. He let her in with a nod. "The angel's back, too," he murmured softly. Ellen scowled.

She brought the tray to Dean and set it on the end table. "I'm beginning to think you just like having me as your waitress," Ellen said with a wink. "Why are you all flushed? You coming down with something?" she asked, reaching out and feeling his forehead.

"He's fine, Ellen. Let the boy eat."

"Bobby Singer, don't you be telling me what to do," Ellen scolded him. She turned and saw the angel sitting at the desk.

"And what about you, angel? Just what the hell did you think you were doing running off with our boy without a word to us?"

Castiel looked up from the book he wasn't actually reading. "I have expressed my apology to both Bobby and to Dean. It was a misunderstanding on my part. If I take him away again because I fear for his welfare, I will inform Bobby or you as soon as is feasible.

Ellen started to open her mouth to say something then suddenly shut it and did a double take. "Apologized?"

Giving something of a sigh, Castiel asked rhetorically, "Why is it humans seem to require everything to be repeated?"

"Why is it angels are dicks?" Ellen tossed back at him.

"Better a dick than…" Castiel thought back to something he had overheard Bobby say, "…being on the rag." He wasn't entirely certain what it meant, but he had the impression it was on the same level of insult as dick was.

Bobby spewed the coffee he was drinking, trying hard not to burst into laughter and Ellen's face was a portrait of shock and surprise. After a moment she straighten. "Huh. Might be hope for you angels yet. Dean, eat, before it gets cold. Bobby, council meeting in fifteen." With that, Ellen headed back out the door, pausing only long enough to squeeze Dean's shoulder.

* * *

Dean chose to ignore Bobby’s comment. To do or say anything about it would probably only invite more teasing from the older man. Why the hell had Castiel done that? Kissing him and… touching him… like that. And in front of Bobby of all people. It was embarrassing as hell. Was this another thing they were going to have to explain to the angel? About humans and their personal space?

_It’s not like you minded it._ A little voice in his head spoke up, and Dean sighed a little in frustration.

Well, he supposed blushing his head off was better than freaking out at least. If anyone else had done it, Dean probably would have freaked out a little. Probably more than a little. And given them a bloody nose for their trouble at the very least.

He wasn’t exactly sure why he didn’t react that way to the angel. Maybe it was because most of the time Castiel had this air of… innocence… around him. Like a child that didn’t know any better. Even when he was being a dick, at least by human standards. But he seemed genuinely remorseful of what he’d done at least, and Dean was finding it hard to stay angry at him.

Dean glanced at the angel sitting at the desk out of the corner of his eye. Yeah, he might act like a child sometimes. There were definitely things he didn’t understand. But Castiel was trying to at least. He definitely _wasn’t_ a child though. Anymore than he was human. Dean couldn’t forget that.

The knock on the door distracted any further teasing the older man might have heaped on him for which Dean was grateful. Dean smiled at Ellen when she came in and gave her a nod of thanks when she set the food in front of him. Her comment about his flushed face unfortunately only seemed to make his problem worse when she reached out and touched his forehead.

At least Bobby had mercy on him and didn’t relate what had caused his heightened color. Instead distracting Ellen, who then went on to scold Castiel and Dean winced a little. It was just Ellen being Ellen and Castiel did seem to be in a more forgiving mood now, but he was still a little worried about everything that had happened.

At least, he was until Castiel’s comment had Bobby spraying coffee everywhere and Dean nearly choking on the piece of bread he’d been in the process of swallowing. Just where the hell had the angel picked THAT up? Wherever he had, Dean might just have to thank them, because it effectively dissolved the remaining tension in the room and Dean could barely stop giggling in between coughing and trying to catch his breath. 

* * *

Castiel was quite pleased that his response to the woman had made both Bobby and especially Dean, laugh. He also seemed to have gained some respect from Ellen. Why an insult would create respect confused him. He also wasn't entirely certain it was an insult, but it didn't matter. It seemed to make things better and that was all that counted. He smiled privately as Dean chuckled and smirked and even flashed a genuine smile now and again. The angel wasn't really sure why it pleased him so much nor why the heart in the chest of Jimmy Novak, the man he currently used for a vessel, beat a little faster.

Deciding that saying anything more might ruin the mood, especially as he was apparently quite skilled at saying the wrong thing at the wrong time, he refocused on the book in front of him.

Bobby had since retrieved a towel and was clearing up the mess he'd made because of Castiel. "You best be careful of who you say that to and when," Bobby told the angel.

Castiel looked up. "Yes. I surmised as much. I understand it is an insult, though I don't understand why."

"It's a way of telling a woman she's being a bitch without actually calling her a bitch," Bobby said, shaking his head. "You don't want to call a woman a bitch unless you really mean it."

Castiel opened his mouth to ask for greater clarification and decided against it. Instead a gave a short nod, looked at Dean whom he gave a brief smile to, then looked down at the book. 

* * *

Once Dean could breathe normally again, he started in on his food as Ellen told him to. It wasn’t much. Just soup, they tended to have a lot of that since it was an easy way to stretch their food supplies, along with some water and bread. Simple, but good. He was rather hungry, and more than that, he was thirsty. Probably from all the blood he’d lost.

It was kind of a strange feeling. Knowing he’d been on the verge of death not so long ago, but feeling perfectly whole now. Yet still having some lingering side effects of the injuries that were no longer there.

Dean grinned a little as he listened to Bobby and Castiel talk. Bobby explaining the subtleties of using certain insults, and when. It looked like Castiel wanted to ask more, and he could only imagine the questions burning in the angel’s mind. Did he even know what a bitch was? But Castiel didn’t and Dean was almost disappointed.

Then again, maybe it was for the best. He’d almost choked on his food one already, after all. The little smile and look Castiel gave him before turning his attention back to the book made Dean’s heart beat a little bit faster, and he swallowed hard. Turning his own attention back to safer topics. Like his food.

Dean was anything but some blushing virgin schoolgirl. He knew exactly what he was feeling, he just didn’t understand why. Only one thing was for certain, he was completely fucked in the head and had no business reacting to anything right now. Or for anyone… so he chose to ignore it. Deny it. Whatever. It was better for everyone concerned.

By the time he was finished eating he was feeling rather tired again. Not much of a surprise, he supposed.

_I’m gonna lay down._ Dean wrote on his slate and showed it to Bobby before he got up and headed over to his cot. He knew Bobby was going to be leaving soon for the council meeting. Probably about him, or Castiel, or both. Dean had to admit, he was feeling a little anxious about it. 

* * *

Bobby nodded when he read the slate. Dean looked pretty worn out. He'd been doing so much better these past few weeks then to have this mess happen, it made Bobby just want to pull his hair out. And maybe do a little target practice on a couple people. He glanced over at Castiel and wondered if maybe Dean wouldn't be better off with the angel in some protected place for a bit. Give Dean a chance to rest up, not have to be around strangers, and the angel could maybe take Ellen or himself back and forth. Giving Dean some company, playing cards, keeping him socialized. Then maybe slowly get him back to visiting the camp, getting used to people again.

Of course if the council had a shit fit about the angel and Dean returning, it might not be an option but a necessity. It hadn't been Dean or the angel's fault what had happened. Those four idjets did it. The camp could really use having Castiel doing his magic healing mumbo jumbo. Did a lot for moral and a lot of people were not thinking of angels as heartless dicks. Now…who knew. Spooking people was easier than ever nowadays.

Staying silent, Bobby 'prayed' to Castiel. _"Can you hear me Castiel? Can you talk to me just in our heads?"_

Castiel glanced up, saw Dean moving over to the cot and then glanced at Bobby before flipping a page in the book and returning his gaze to the book. _"Of course."_

_"The council will be talking about you and Dean. Might be good if you came. I know they'll probably have questions for you."_

_"I will not leave Dean alone, particularly while he may well fall asleep. If they wish to ask me questions, they can meet with me when Dean is awake and someone trustworthy is with him. I will not leave him unprotected again. If the council wishes for us to leave, we will. Dean was very content in the cabin we were at until he discovered I had not informed you of his well being. That can be addressed in some fashion such as to give him peace of mind, I'm certain."_

_"I'm hoping it doesn't come to that, though it might be better for Dean for a few weeks."_

_"That is for you and Dean to decide. As far as he is concerned, there is apparently no room for compromise when it comes to you. I will not fight that battle unless I become deeply worried regarding his welfare. I am not concerned…for the moment."_

_"All right. I tell the council what you said about meeting up with 'em."_

Bobby gathered the tray and dishes and stacked them up, then pulled on his coat. "Dean, I'm going to head on over to the meeting. Not sure when I'll be back. Rest up."

* * *

Dean sat down on the edge of his cot and worked on getting his boots off. It was almost more effort than it was worth. The only reason why he didn’t just lay down with them on because he didn’t want to get his blankets all wet and have to clean up mud later. He felt wrung out. Probably more mentally than physically, though he felt pretty drained in that department too.

He finally managed to kick off his boots, their thunk on the hard wood floor seemingly overly loud in the silence of the room. Dean glanced over at Bobby and the angel but Castiel was focused on his reading and Bobby was just cleaning up his dishes. Dean felt a little bad about that. It seemed like the older man was always cleaning up after him in some way or another.

This meeting with the council was probably just another version of that. Cleaning up Dean’s mess. Maybe it wasn’t Dean’s fault he’d been knifed in the back and left for dead. But fear, grief, and anger could make people do stupid things. If he’d never been rescued from the demon’s dungeons, if he hadn’t been dropped on Bobby’s doorstep by an archangel, if he didn’t have an angel bodyguard hanging around ready to smite anyone that touched him…

No, it wasn’t his fault. But at the same time it was. Could he really blame them if they decided it was better for everyone if Dean, and the angel, left? Except for Bobby was there any real reason for him to stay?

Dean looked up and nodded at Bobby’s words, watched the man leave, and then sighed softly to himself. His gaze then shifted to the angel. Castiel seemed overly engrossed in the book. He wondered if the angel was actually reading or just pretending to. Maybe Castiel still thought Dean was angry with him.

Was he? No, he supposed not. Confused, sure, but not angry. Castiel had apologized. Maybe it was time for Dean to.

_“Hey Cas… I’m… sorry for blowing up at you back at the cabin. I guess I overreacted. I… thanks… for looking out for me.”_   


* * *

Castiel was staring at the book in front of him, simply waiting for Dean to lie down and drift off to sleep. Then he would deal with Dean how he seemed best at dealing with him. Being invisible, whispering soothing words, and gently running his fingers through Dean's hair while keeping the nightmares at bay.

'Hearing' Dean's words, Castiel looked up at him, surprised. He turned Dean's words over in his mind. "You spent a great deal of time with no control over what happened to you. You regained that here and then I took it away from you without meaning to. If you say you over-reacted," Castiel shrugged, "then I am glad my error was not as grievous as I thought it was." Giving Dean a genuine if small smile he said, "I enjoy 'looking out for you.' I am learning many things. It is very different, watching humans versus interacting with them. I do not believe I will ever fully grasp humans, human reactions, feelings and such, but I do believe I will understand you much better. I hope I will."

Tilting his head, he asked Dean, "Is there anything more I can do for you? Anything you wish you had that you don't? My abilities are not limitless, as you've seen," he said, glancing at the scars around Dean's throat, "but I am capable of a great many things. …You seem sad. When others aren't around, I see it in you, feel it in your emotions. I would very much like to ease that sadness. If you think of anything that is within my power, please ask and I will try. When you smile, your eyes light up and it makes me feel more…useful…if I have helped in giving you that smile." Castiel gave a shake of his head. "I do not think I am explaining myself well again. And I perhaps talk too much once again."

* * *

Dean couldn’t deny he was a little bit surprised by Castiel’s reply. For a guy who didn’t seem to understand humans very well, he’d certainly nailed that one on the head. Something even Dean had been having a little trouble pinpointing exactly why Castiel’s actions had angered him so.

He couldn’t really say he’d regained much freedom being here though. Sure he wasn’t waiting around for demons to rape and torture him all day long. But he was still waiting for the ax to fall when the higher up angels finally decided what to do with him. And he knew he wasn’t going to have much choice in that regard, despite what Castiel said about free will.

But there wasn’t much Castiel could do about that, so there wasn’t much point in getting pissy with the angel about things even he couldn’t control. His hands were tied in that regard just as much as Dean’s were.

The guy had already done a lot more for him than Dean had ever expected. Agreeing not to tell his higher ups about the tug of war Azazel and Sam had been having regarding him, for one. Plus, Castiel had brought him back when he’d ‘asked’. Grudgingly maybe. But he had. And he didn’t have to.

Dean couldn’t help but laugh a little when Castiel said he’d probably never fully understand humans. Yeah, he couldn’t really blame the guy. Even humans couldn’t fully understand other humans at the best of times. So he couldn’t really fault the angel at that.

Then the angel surprised him again when he asked if he could… do anything for him. Like what? Before he could ask Castiel went on, and Dean couldn’t help feeling more than a little uncomfortable and exposed. He supposed it wasn’t much of a secret. Anyone with eyes in their head and half a brain could probably see how messed up he was. But to hear his feelings laid out so bluntly, how Castiel wished he was happy more, and how he wanted to…

He really didn’t want to talk about this. Castiel probably wouldn’t understand anyway… and if Dean didn’t know better he’d say the angel was crushing on him. Big time.

Dean blinked and shook his head a little. He must be more tired than he thought.

_“I don’t think there’s anything you can do. I’ll be fine.”_ Dean said, looking away and clearing his throat self consciously. _“I’ll talk to you later.”_

Dean didn’t wait for the angel to respond before he laid down on his cot and covered up. Wrapping the blankets around him a little like armor, effectively ending the conversation. It was definitely the best thing to do. Before he said or did something stupid. 

* * *

  
Castiel was disappointed that Dean didn't want anything. It seemed as if that was always the case. He didn't want the coffee Castiel had struggled to make for him. He didn't want Castiel touching him. He wanted Castiel out of his 'personal space.' The list went on and on. Was it because he was an angel? Was it because Dean didn't want him here? If Dean didn't want him here, he could ask that a different angel be assigned to Dean. Maybe a different one Dean would like better. Maybe a different one would make Dean happier. When Dean awoke from his nap, he would ask, though the thought of not being here to help Dean produced an odd sort of ache in his chest that he couldn't explain.

Perhaps it only went back to what Gabriel had said. Humans liked to think of themselves as being in charge, as being the biggest bad-asses around. Bravado. That was the word, if he wasn't mistaken. Humans were prone to bravado. Dean had no way of knowing if he would actually be fine or not. And how could he think Castiel could do nothing for him when he wouldn't even think about it, when he wouldn't even try? Perhaps Bobby could make some suggestions, things that might bring the smile to Dean's face that Castiel liked to see.

Castiel wondered briefly what the council meeting was about then decided it didn't matter, not really. If they wanted Dean and him gone, Castiel had many safe places he could take Dean. He could bring Bobby or Ellen along if Dean wished.

Though Dean claimed he was tired, it seemed to take a long time for Dean to actually fall asleep. When Dean finally did, Castiel took up his traditional spot, with Dean's head in his lap. Perhaps it would be good if Dean slept for a long while. Although he had healed Dean, he hadn't fully rejuvenated him, because Dean's body needed to learn to recover some on its own. Against his better judgment he didn't put Dean into a deep slumber. He knew Dean wouldn't like it if he did, so he settle himself in and focused everything on trying to keep Dean's dreams out of the realm of darkness. 


	6. Chapter 6

  
_Dean looked at himself in a mirror. Even though the face staring back at him was his own he almost didn’t recognize it. His eyes. There was a spark there, a light, a life, that Dean hadn’t seen for a long time. Far different from the haunted shadow that seemed to stare out at him in mirrors whenever he dared to look in them._   


  
_  
His reflection smiled at him. Not the forced fake one he used to try to ease the minds of his few remaining friends. It was cocky. Almost arrogant. Full of confidence with a hint of mischief._

_Slowly Dean reached out. Touched the glass._

_It shattered._

_His fingers bled and he hissed in pain. Watching his blood drip like rubies onto the broken glass. A hundred reflections stared back at him but his reflection was different now. Sunken eyes. Hollowed cheeks. Scarred face. Dead eyes. What he’d looked like after five years of living in hell as Azazel’s prisoner._

_Dean tore his eyes away from the reflections, looking up, and gasped sharply when he saw Sam standing in front of him. He took a step back, at least he tried to, but he was frozen in place. But Sam’s face was… different. Just like his own had been in the mirror to begin with. Instead of the power hungry madness Dean had come to know so well under Sam’s ‘care’ there was a sorrow in his brother’s eyes he didn’t think he’d ever seen before. Not even after Jessica’s death._

_“Sam…”_

_His brother’s hand slowly lifted, and Dean flinched. If possible Sam looked even more heartbroken at the sight, but he didn’t stop. Sam reached out to him. Not close enough to touch him. Dean would have to reach out as well and their fingers probably wouldn’t even brush. Even though Sam didn’t seem to move, he also seemed to be moving further and further away. The darkness around them seemed to swallow him. Sam’s eyes begged him silently._

_Dean wanted to reach out. He did._

_But he couldn’t…_

When Dean opened his eyes he wasn’t surprised to find tears on his cheeks. 

* * *

Castiel was singing softly to Dean, but was keeping his attention focused on sensing any presence nearing the cabin. He didn't think Dean would approve of Castiel cradling his head in his lap, or keeping the nightmares at bay, or, just, well invading his apparently highly prized personal space. Certainly Castiel didn't want to be surprised by Ellen or Bobby or another member of the camp. Certainly he could be invisible, but he saw no need to be at the moment.

As he usually did, Castiel let his mind wander, holding several trains of thought at once. He stretched his wings out, letting them flutter and enjoying the stretch. Often angels kept their wings pulled tightly in when in a human host. It was nice to simply stretch them, letting them slip from the shadow realm and into the reality the humans lived in.

He almost absently stroked Dean's hair and felt a swell of powerful emotions, emotions all tangled up. Feelings of happiness, and love, hate and fear, all intertwined with confusion and pain, sadness and loneliness. Castiel brought more of his divergent attentions to bear on Dean, trying to soothe him and help Dean rid himself of the knot of overwhelming emotions.

Seeing the tears, Castiel started to wipe them away, when Dean's eyes suddenly fluttered open.

* * *

Somehow Dean wasn’t all that surprised when Castiel was the first thing he saw when his vision cleared. There was no way to hide his distress or his tears, considering the angel was now in the process of wiping them away. He thought he should be embarrassed, but oddly enough, he wasn’t. Like that day in the clearing when he’d taken comfort from the angel. Like when he’d woken up in the cabin, very much like this, with his head in the angel’s lap, Castiel’s fingers in his hair.

A strange feeling of… calmness settled over him. Like a warm comforting blanket. Suddenly a thought occurred to him.

_“You do this a lot, don’t you?”_

It wasn’t so much a question as a statement however. Dean had thought it was strange that he hadn’t had any real nightmares since coming here. This… whatever Castiel was doing… probably explained why. Though he had never seen the angel before when he’d woken up this still felt too familiar to be the first or second time Castiel had done this.

A part of him wanted to be angry. He had told Castiel to stay out of his head. He’d barely let anyone but Bobby and Ellen close to him, and Castiel on a very limited basis. He wanted to be angry for the angel for going behind his back, doing something he hadn’t asked for… but he couldn’t be angry. Maybe he was just too tired to be angry.

Or maybe he couldn’t deny how good it felt.

Dean sighed heavily. Turning his face a little into the hand touching his cheek.

_“I… thanks…”_   


* * *

Castiel blanched a little at being caught once again by Dean. Dean's question-statement seemed pointless to answer so he didn't at first. He was surprised when Dean pressed his cheek against Castiel's hand.

"You're welcome. I have only sung to you and tried to offer feelings of peace and safety while you sleep. It pains me to see you having nightmares and since you have forbidden me from suppressing them, it was all I could think of to give you much needed rest. I…I feared you would be angry with me which is why I have veiled myself from you in the mornings. I am glad you are not angry. This," he gently stroked Dean's cheek, "makes me feel somewhat useful to you."

Castiel finally pulled his golden wings back in, returning them to concealment in the shadow realm. He saw Dean's gaze flick over them just before they disappeared from human sight and he wondered what Dean thought of them. Humans often didn't deal well with anything different from themselves and he wondered if seeing his wings bothered Dean.

After a moment he asked softly, "What was your dream about that upset you? Is there anything I can do to help?"

* * *

Dean looked up at the angel in a bit of disbelief. Sung to him? He had to be kidding. No, of course he wasn’t kidding. The angel probably didn’t even understand the concept.

Wow… he hoped Castiel never did that when Bobby was around. But if he had, the older man would have probably said something about it before. If Dean had found out before… before when? Before Castiel had saved his life and healed him yet again? Before that day in the clearing? Dean wasn’t even sure when he started to genuinely trust the angel.

All he knew was he wasn’t angry. In fact, he felt kind of bad as Castiel cautiously admitted how he’d been helping him sleep, even though Dean had told him not to. He didn’t think he could be angry at the angel even if he wanted to be. Not when Castiel was wearing that guilty puppy expression.

Dean’s eyes flickered away from the angel’s face towards the sudden movement he only realized were the angel’s wings once they’d disappeared. He almost found himself saying that Castiel didn’t need to ‘put them away’ on his account. He’d never seen an angel’s wings before and they were… nice. Interesting. Yes, that was a better word. Much better than nice or pretty.

Any embarrassment over his thoughts were pretty quickly erased when Castiel asked him about his dream. He didn’t really want to talk about it, but he was starting to become used to doing things he thought he didn’t want to do around the angel.

_“I saw Sam. My brother. But not like he is now. From before. I think… I think he wanted help. But I couldn’t help him.”_

* * *

Castiel saw the pain seem to wash through Dean as he asked him about his dream. Dean appeared reluctant to answer, and yet, seemed as if he needed to share his dark thoughts with someone. Castiel was pleased Dean felt he could tell the angel. Perhaps he was slowly winning over the elder Winchester. He listened as Dean told him what had brought the tears to his eyes.

"It is hard when a brother is lost to darkness. You want to believe you could have stopped it if only you had been stronger, braver, had more faith, something…anything. I do understand this. The only thing I can offer is that perhaps someday the lost can be found again.

"It is hard to have faith sometimes that this could come to pass, but when faced with such a loss, faith is the only thing that can sometimes offer comfort. Though as I am learning, apparently several glasses of alcohol can sometimes help for a short while. Would a picture of your brother from…before…soothe or hurt you? Or would you like me to retrieve Bobby's whiskey? I could take you to some places on this Earth that are yet beautiful or get you coffee or…dessert? Or I can stay here at your side and gently stroke your face, whispering soothing songs to you to distract you."

* * *

Dean couldn’t decide if he regretted telling Castiel about his dream or not. The angel said he understood… but Dean wasn’t sure if he really did.

Yes. Dean did blame himself for what had happened to Sam. Dean was all but certain that the deal Azazel had spoke of, the one Castiel said was written in the flesh around his neck and kept him mute, had been struck by Sam. A deal his brother had made that night in Cold Oak, when Azazel had been killing him, in order to save his life. The reason why the younger man didn’t remember him. The reason Sam had done all those horrible things. The reason why his brother was no longer human…

Was there anything Dean could have done to stop Sam from becoming this? He’d asked himself that at least a thousand times a day, every day he’d spent rotting in that hell hole. Every time the lash fell on his back, or he was burned with a brand, or some random demon was using him as a fuck toy. Yes, he’d often thought about what he could have done, what he should have done instead. What if he’d been stronger, if he’d gotten to Sam just a few minutes earlier, if he’d never let Sam get kidnapped in the first place, and a hundred other things.

Would any of it have made a difference? Maybe not. But even if there was nothing he could have done to stop it, he’d still failed. He’d failed his brother. He’d failed his father. He’d failed the whole fucking world. And there was nothing he could do to make up for that. Absolutely nothing.

That was why the dream was so cruel. To see Sam like he was. His brother… he wanted to believe it was real, that Sam wanted help, that he could come back… but he couldn’t. After what Sam had done to him… the whole damned world…

When Castiel suggested getting drunk as a distraction from all the things in his fucked up head, Dean couldn't help but laugh. Even though it sounded harsh and a little choked even to his own ears. The mention of a picture of Sam brought fresh tears to his eyes before he could stop them, and really, right now he was feeling so… raw… he didn’t even try. They spilled down his cheeks even as he laughed again at the angel’s offer to keep singing to him, more the way it was worded than the offer itself. This time it had an edge to it he really didn’t like. If someone else heard him they might think he was on the verge of losing it. Hell, maybe he was.

_“I think you’re right. I need a drink.”_

* * *

Castiel tilted his head. He didn't understand. Dean was laughing. And he was crying. And everything seemed a tangled up mess inside of Dean. He desperately wanted to help this human who was his charge. His mind raced with possibilities he had not begun to offer to Dean as ways to try to cheer him.

"Then I will get you a drink." He helped Dean sit up. "I will be back likely before you have reached the couch."

He decided Dean should have his own bottle of whiskey so he did not feel guilty drinking Bobby's. With supernatural speed he added wood to the fire then disappeared out the door. He returned to the cabin he had taken Dean to and collected three bottles, one of whiskey, one of bourbon, and one of vodka. Since Dean liked cars, he found some magazines in a bookstore in a country town, magazines that talked about everything from engine repair to muscle cars. He randomly selected a few other magazines on weapons, hunting, & national parks. There were some crossword puzzles and word searches, and something called 'comic books' that he had often seen children and young men read and seem to enjoy. The book store had a selection of candies and chocolates so he collected a sample of those as well and hoped Dean liked chocolate as well as many humans seemed to.

He tried to recall what else cheered humans that he had seen through the years. They liked balloons and flowers and young animals to take care of. They liked footballs and baseballs and darts and games. Confetti and noisemakers and silly hats. Some found solace in crucifixes or other religious symbols. Things lost or forgotten and found again could make someone happy. New clothes, new shoes.

Taking a quick detour, he collected some wildflowers further south that were in bloom, then found a store that had long deflated balloons that Castiel re-inflated. He found a baseball and some tennis balls and a football. After some more thought, he went on one final search and located a semi-automatic gun for Dean, engraved and inlaid with mother of pearl. And a couple boxes of ammunition. If none of these items worked to help Dean, then he would try some of the other items he had thought of but not yet looked for.

Returning to Bobby's cabin, he smiled at Dean and set two overflowing shopping bags on the coffee table. He handed Dean the balloons and flowers. "Maybe one of the things in these will cheer you?" he asked, his eyes bright with hope as he motioned to the bags. "I brought you your own bottles of alcohol, too."

He walked over and got a glass and returned to the couch, sitting across from Dean as he set the glass on the table. He watched Dean closely, hoping one of the things he had found might bring a smile to his face and most importantly, might chase the sadness from his eyes. 

* * *

The look of confusion on Castiel’s face might have been funny if not for the worry he could also see in the angel’s eyes to go along with it. The angel was probably worried about his sanity. Dean couldn’t really blame him. Dean was a little worried about it too.

Even though he’d asked for a drink, he didn’t really want to sit up, or to move from his position in the angel’s lap. Castiel didn’t give him much of a choice though, and Dean sighed softly as he sat up, giving a slight nod when the angel said he was getting him a drink. But then the angel disappeared and Dean blinked in confusion.

What the hell? Where was he going? The liquor was just across the room the kitchen cupboard. Maybe Castiel was just giving Dean a few minutes alone to compose himself. He should probably make the most of it, the young man thought, as he wiped at his face and did his best to get his wildly swinging emotions back under control.

He was just feeling a little fragile after getting the shit kicked out of him and nearly dying again. That was all. It was his own fault really. It was stupid of him to let his guard down like that. It wouldn’t happen again. He shouldn’t be getting this emotional about a stupid dream either. He’d had many worse nightmares. He’d lived through a hell of a lot worse.

Dean took a deep breath and let it out slowly. When he felt a little more in control, he got up and started to head towards the couch, since Castiel had suggested it. True to his word, the angel popped back into existence in front of him as soon as Dean sat down, making him jump a little in surprise. But apparently that wasn’t the last surprise Castiel had for him.

Dean blinked. Then he blinked again. What. The. Hell.

Yes, that was definitely a bouquet of wildflowers the angel shoved into his hands. Yup, those floating things above his head in the shape of teddy bears, hearts, and sporting various phrases like ‘Happy Mother’s Day’ and ‘It’s a boy!’ were definitely balloons. Dean’s eyes turned to the overflowing bags sitting on the coffee table in front of him. Comic books, several types of chocolates, and a box of ammunition the first things he saw. He watched as a baseball rolled out, across the table to thunk onto the floor and that finally seemed to break his paralysis.

He looked up into the angel’s hopeful eyes and that’s when the giggles started. Much to his embarrassment, because he definitely did NOT giggle, only he was. Dean took another look at the balloons and snorted hard. But once it was out he couldn’t stop it now. He started to laugh. He lost his grip on his balloons. Watched them float merrily up to the ceiling, and for some reason it made him laugh harder. He laughed so hard his side started to hurt.

His face was red and his eyes were wet for a different reason when he finally managed to regain some control over himself. Oh god. He needed that. He really did.

Dean looked at the angel and gave him a genuine smile.

_“Thank you.”_ He said, setting the flowers aside on the table gently and picking up the glass and the bottle of whiskey. Dean poured himself a glass and tossed it back in one swallow. Damn. It was the good stuff too. He wondered where Castiel had gotten it. Dean took another look at the items scattered about the coffee table and snickered again as he poured himself another drink. If he didn’t know better he’d say the angel was trying to get into his pants. Dean looked at the angel and offered the bottle to him.

_“Want some?”_   


* * *

Castiel practically held his breath as he waited for Dean's reaction. Shocked and confused were the initial emotions that seemed to cross the man's features. Perhaps he would have to hunt for some of the other things he had made a mental list of. Something would surely bring some small moment of joy to the man and he would find it!

Then suddenly Dean was giggling and snorting and laughing and holding his side as his face turned bright red. Castiel was more than just a little pleased he had succeeded. He was _happy_ that he had been able to make Dean laugh, so happy that a full smile spread across his lips. His eyes went to the balloons that had seemed to delight the man. He would find more balloons next time he went out. The ceiling of the cabin would be a confetti of colors from the balloons if that is what made Dean laugh.

When Dean smiled at him and thanked him, his vessel's heart skipped a beat though Castiel didn't understand why.

"You're welcome," he said, noticing the beautiful smile the man had. His eyes were clear and bright, crinkling in the corners, though all his laughter had made his eyes tear up some, but Castiel understood it wasn't a sign of sadness. Dean's face was still red, which was so different from the pale skin the man usually had. The color seemed to add a fresh layer of life to Dean and that pleased Castiel deeply as well.

He was going to refuse the alcohol as it was in limited supply and would have no effect on him, but he found he couldn't deny Dean.

"Yes. Sure," he said and retrieved a glass for himself and sat down beside Dean. He let Dean pour him some and as Dean had done, he slammed it back. "A smile suits you well," Castiel said, glancing at Dean then picking up the baseball that had fallen onto the floor. Setting it on the coffee table, he rolled it in front of Dean. "I am glad you like the gifts."  


* * *

At first he thought the angel was going to refuse the liquor. Could angels even get drunk? Honestly Dean didn’t really care. _He_ was planning on getting drunk, and even if the liquor had no effect on the angel it was better than drinking alone.

Castiel didn’t refuse however, and Dean grinned at the angel when he got up to get himself a glass. Dean poured himself another while he glanced up at the balloons floating on the ceiling and snickered. He still couldn’t believe the angel had brought him back balloons… and flowers… and chocolates… Seriously, what was with all the chick presents? He wondered what Bobby would think. Probably bust a gut laughing like Dean had.

But, it was the thought that counted, right?

Dean’s eyes turned back to the angel when Castiel settled beside him once more. He poured a good measure of the alcohol into the other man’s glass and grinned when the angel tossed it back like he had without so much as a flinch. Dean nodded in approval.

When the angel mentioned how a smile ‘suited’ him Dean hoped his face was still red enough from laughing that the other man didn’t notice him blushing. Damn it. First giggling now blushing. If he wasn’t careful he was going to spontaneously grow a vagina here soon.

Dean cleared his throat and poured himself another glass and refilled the angel’s as well. He drank this glass a little slower as he watched the ball rolling around on the table. Such a normal, every day, thing. A baseball. Or at least, once it had been. Some of the kids in the camp would probably like it. Ellen might like the chocolates. The flowers… maybe they’d put them in water. Or dry them. Dean had a feeling flowers weren’t really an abundant thing in the world anymore like so many other things.

He hoped Castiel didn’t get offended with him wanting to share his ‘gifts’ but he certainly couldn’t use all this stuff. Someone should at least get some joy out of it. Dean looked at the angel and couldn’t help but wonder why Castiel had done all this. Just to make him happy? That wasn’t exactly part of Castiel’s job description.

Castiel had asked him once before what he could do to make him happy. Dean had told him he didn’t think there was anything he could do. Maybe he’d been wrong.

By the time the bottle was halfway finished Dean was well on his way to being drunk. Damn he was such a light weight now. Out of practice… well, he was just going to have to change that. He was certainly feeling pretty happy too, and not all of it had to do with the liquor, he was surprised to find. He found himself leaning up against the angel more and more, not because he needed the support, but because he just liked it. Castiel was warm. Like a friggen furnace. And he liked it.

_“What’s heaven like?”_ Dean suddenly asked out of the blue when he was on his… he’d actually lost count of how many glasses he’d had. 

* * *

Dean seemed much more interested in the alcohol right now than the other gifts Castiel had brought. Still, he hoped some of the comics or magazines or football or gun brought more smiles to Dean when he did finally go through everything. Dean seemed semi-intrigued by the baseball, so Castiel nudged it to keep it rolling around the table a little longer.

At least until Dean leaned up against him. The baseball thudded to the floor again when Castiel lost all focus. There was silence between them but the angel continued to pour Dean and himself drinks. Dean leaned against him more and more until finally Castiel put his arm around Dean to sort of help steady him and to make it more comfortable for them both.

Castiel licked his lips when Dean asked his question and considered for a long time before he finally answered. It was generally frowned upon to tell the living what Heaven was like.

"Heaven is…it is what you most want it to be. Each person makes their own heaven. It is reliving your most happy times with the people you love the most. For some it is living fantasies and dreams that they never were able to fulfill in this life. Those who are deeply religious often spend their days tending to the gathering places which are some of the holier of places in Heaven. 

* * *

Dean smiled when he felt Castiel’s arm slip around his shoulders. It felt nice. Like when he’d woken up with his head in the angel’s lap and Castiel’s fingers petting through his hair. Better even, since they were closer now. There was just something about the angel that seemed to radiate peace and comfort, Dean wasn’t sure if it was an angel thing, or if it was just Cas, but he wanted to soak the feeling in like a sponge.

He was tired… so very tired… of everything hurting all the time. Physically. Mentally. Emotionally. He didn’t hurt now, and it was nice.

Castiel didn’t answer his question right away. In fact, it seemed to take him a long time. Maybe it was too complicated, something a mortal couldn’t really understand. Heaven. It was just a word. Just like Hell. But no one could really understand what Hell was like until they’d actually experienced it. Maybe it was the same thing for heaven.

The angel had told him his father’s soul had escaped from hell, that his father and mother were now together in heaven. He… he was just curious. He wanted to know they were in a good place. That they were happy. After all he’d done, after all his failures, Dean was certain he’d never be able to see heaven. Never see his family again. Even Sam had said it… when he died his soul would probably go straight to hell.

He was about to tell the angel he didn’t have to answer, taking another long drink of liquor trying to drown out the dark thoughts that had begun to intrude on the moment, when Castiel finally answered. Each person making their own heaven? Reliving their most happy times… that sounded nice.

Dean rested his head on Castiel’s shoulder.

_“What’s your happiest time?”_ Dean asked, tilting his head so he could see the angel’s face. 

* * *

Dean using his shoulder as a pillow of sorts surprised him. Then when Dean looked up at him, Castiel couldn't help but notice Dean's long lashes, the beautiful shade of green his eyes were, and the sprinkling of freckles than ran across the bridge of his nose. His question also surprised Castiel.

"My happiest time?" Castiel repeated, thinking back through the millennia. He remembered when he first came into existence. He knew his place among the angels. Every angel knew there own place. Then, eventually, the Earth came to support life. It was as if God was making the world rich and ready for His next great creation…humans. Word came down that the angels were to love the Humans, treasure them, watch over them. And that was when angels first began to fall. Lucifer fell deeper and darker than most, taking many angels with him. Other angels decided to take up residence on Earth, live as humans did, but they seemed to forget their heavenly ways and lost themselves. It was a great schism, sad that the angels, his brothers and sisters hadn't the faith to trust their Father and treasure these wonderful, if flawed, creations. And Lucifer, the most beautiful of all the angels was determined to show just how flawed the young, naïve humans could be.

Memories of the ages twirled through his mind like a zoetrope. He contemplated his reactions, or lack of reactions. Angels were created as warriors to protect His creations but in general, angels perceived emotions differently than humans, Castiel thought. Humans had such short lives. A moment for them was a thousand years or more for an angel. Little things meant much less to angels.

"My happiest time…has been these past days here. Learning about humans first hand. Watching you smile, watching your brief moments of happiness. Watching you laugh so hard as balloons slipped from your grasp and were collected above. Of walking in the woods with you. Of Ellen insisting I eat or Bobby and the others…teasing me as if I were one of you. Of attempting to make coffee for us. Watching you sleep, a peaceful smile on your face as I sing to you, your head resting in my lap. I have always wanted to interact with humans instead of just watching, invisible to them. This has been a joy and privilege," he said, gently brushing a lock of hair from Dean's forehead.

* * *

Dean couldn’t help but smile in amusement at the intense look of concentration that passed over the angel’s face in response to his question. He’d swear any minute smoke was going to start coming out of the angel’s ears he seemed to be thinking so hard.

He supposed it wasn’t an easy question to answer. If Dean let himself think about it, he wasn’t sure he could define his happiest memory. How many of his good memories were also tainted by tragedies? Memories of his mother tainted by the memory of her death. Memories of his father tainted by the sacrifice the man had made, selling his soul to save Dean’s life. Memories of Sam… tainted by the monster he’d let his brother become.

Dean’s smile slipped off his face and he stared down at the amber liquid swirling around in his glass. The liquor could dull his pain but not erase it completely. It could push the memories to the edge of his consciousness but they would always be there, lurking in the dark, ready to pounce. Never letting him forget how he’d been broken, and the joy his own brother had taken breaking him.

What was his happiest memory? Did he even have any anymore? Would he ever be happy again?

When Castiel finally answered, Dean couldn’t deny his surprise. His eyes darting back up to the angel’s face, shock written in them. Honestly Dean had expected the angel to tell him about some random event a thousand or so years ago. He had no idea how old Castiel really was, but the angel had hinted enough for him to guess he’d been around for a pretty damned long time. All the things he had seen, heard, experienced… and he chose now as his happiest memories?

With him…

Dean blinked up at the angel, unsure how to respond to that. From anyone else it would have sounded like a line. Castiel probably didn’t even know what that was. It was possible the angel was just saying what he thought Dean wanted to hear… was it what he wanted to hear? Dean couldn’t deny how his heart rate practically tripled when the angel’s fingers brushed through his hair.

Maybe it was just the liquor. It was surely the alcohol that made him reach up with his free hand and mimic the angel’s touch. Brushing Castiel’s hair back from his forehead and running through the thick dark strands. His hand coming to rest on the side of the angel’s neck, his thumb lightly caressing along the other man’s jaw line. He could certainly blame the whiskey for the way he shifted in his seat, turning more towards the angel, leaning in and tugging the angel closer until their mouths met in the middle. Maybe the warmth that began to pool in his belly was just the alcohol too, but he didn’t care. It felt good and for the moment he was happy. 

* * *

The way Dean's gaze flicked to meet his own, maybe as if checking if Castiel was teasing, didn't surprise the angel. Dean couldn't possibly understand how it was to be forced to only watch for thousands of years and finally…finally to have that restriction lifted. To be able to be among those he treasured and loved. He would miss the interaction, of that he had no doubt, when his time among the humans…with Dean…ended.

He could see Dean was doubting the veracity of his words which made the angel sigh a bit to himself. He had no reason to lie or offer deceit. These past days had made him very happy…except when Dean had nearly died. He had not liked that day and promised himself there would be no recurrence.

He smiled a little at the way Dean ran his fingers through the dark locks of the vessel he was in. Did Dean think he needed comfort? Of course, with his injury, he couldn't actually sing to him, though he could sing a song in his mind and Castiel would be able to hear it.

The way the man's thumb caressed his jaw made his vessel's heart thump a little harder and he found himself leaning into the touch ever so slightly. He let Dean tug him down, curious what the man was up to when suddenly warm wet lips were pressed against his own. His eyes widened and his mouth opened in surprise. Not only was he surprised Dean was kissing him, be he was quite surprised by the cascade of reactions the body he was in began to experience.

Almost without thought, he slipped one arm around Dean, holding him closer as he began to kiss Dean back, a soft sound in the back of his throat escaping him. 

* * *

Dean had only a second to be surprised by his own actions before he was doubly surprised by Castiel's. It wasn’t as though he’d _meant_ to kiss the angel. Ok, he’d meant it, but it wasn’t like he’d planned it. It had just kind of… happened. He wasn’t sure what kind of reaction to his sudden move he’d been expecting. Maybe some shock. Maybe some awkward fumbling. He sure as hell hadn’t expected Castiel, given his insistence how angels didn’t _fornicate_ , to kiss him back without any apparent hesitation like a fucking pro.

The way the angel’s arm wrapped around him, pulling him closer as Castiel’s lips moved against his own made his heart rate shoot through the roof. His heart pounding so hard in his chest he was sure the angel would be able to feel it. He felt Castiel’s lips part and Dean groaned. His eyes opening in surprise when he heard the sound, but he soon realized it hadn’t come from him, but the _angel_.

Fuck. This was so messed up. This had to be some kind of hell worthy offence. He didn’t fucking care.

Closing his eyes Dean’s fingers tangled in the short hair at the back of the other man’s neck and pressed closer still. The half empty glass in his hand slipping from his grasp and falling to the floor, spilling its contents, all but forgotten. His now free hand tangling in the fabric of the angel’s shirt as he kissed the other man harder. His tongue pushing past the soft lips parted in invitation and exploring the wet heat beyond. Exploring the ridges of his teeth, the roof of his mouth, and twining their tongues together. 

* * *

The heart in his chest thundered and heat scorched his insides like holy fire scorched demons. He was an angel, ancient by human standards, able to multitask a hundred, a thousand events at once, and yet, he couldn't begin to categorize all the feelings running amok inside him. At a loss how to respond, how to perceive everything he turned to the owner of the vessel for help and guidance.

_Jimmy, what do I do?_ Castiel begged.

_Lay him out with a right hook?_ Jimmy responded, somewhat taken aback by the fact that Castiel obviously wanted to pursue intimacy with the man in his arms. Since his family had passed, he really didn't give a damned about the outside world and was only too happy to be in God's army. He hadn't anticipated…well, hell, if the angel wanted it, the angel sure as hell had earned it for everything he had done through the eons. _Kiss him back. Your tongues should kind of battle, wrapping around each other. Touch skin, twist nipples, whatever makes you feel crazy will probably make him feel crazy too. Brush your hand over his groin, his cock._

Nodding to himself, in effect, nodding to Jimmy, he tangled his tongue with Dean's, Jimmy offering bits of advice here and there. Castiel let Dean be the one in control since he needed someone's lead to follow, unsure of exactly what he should be doing.

With Jimmy have said touching skin was good, after a moment's hesitation he moved his hand from Dean's back and slid it under Dean's shirt, and slipped his hand back up to where it hand been. Warm soft skin was under his hand and he couldn't deny he liked it in a way he had never felt before. He gently caressed it wanting to feel it as Dean's muscle's tensed under his touch before relaxing again. 

* * *

There was a moment of hesitancy, so brief Dean wasn’t sure if he might have only imagined it, before Castiel was kissing him back. And fuck, with an intensity that was doing things to Dean he didn’t think was possible anymore. The heat of it felt like it was melting him inside and he didn’t care one god damn bit.

Christ, what the fuck was he doing? He was making out… on Bobby’s couch… with a god damn _angel_. Which one of those things was more insane he wasn’t sure. The fact that after everything he’d endured at the hands of demons, most of them in male bodies, that he actually _wanted_ Castiel to touch him, hold him, kiss the daylights out of him… and the angel was doing a fine job of it too. What the hell would Bobby say if he saw them? And he thought Castiel had said he’d never done this before?

Dean told his brain to fuck off.

He felt Castiel’s hand caress down his back and arched a little into the contact. His fingers unclenching from the fabric of the angel’s shirt so that his palm pressed firmly against the other man’s chest. Feeling his heat, the hard muscles, and the strong beat of the angel’s heart against his hand. Hard and fast. Just like his own. Dean moaned softly into the other man’s mouth when he felt Castiel’s hand slip underneath his shirt to caress his back.

_“Christ. Are you sure you’ve never done this before?”_ Dean couldn’t help but ask as he finally, albeit reluctantly, broke their kiss. But he needed to breathe, and his breath was more than a little rough as he looked into the angel’s eyes so close to his own.

Now it was his time to hesitate. He didn’t know how far he wanted this to go. He was already shocked it had gotten this far.

_Stop thinking so god damned much._

Thinking too much only caused him pain now a days and this, whatever it was, it was the best he’d felt in a long fucking time. So Dean closed the distance between them once more, pressing their lips together in a kiss that was both slow and demanding. His hand slowly moving down the angel’s chest. Enjoying the feeling of the other man’s warmth and the strength he could feel in the muscles beneath his fingers, though not really enjoying the feel of the fabric between them.

Which was why he started tugging on the offending shirt, pulling it loose from where it had been tucked into the angel’s pants enough that he could slip his hand underneath it much like Castiel had done to him. His fingers splayed wide across the planes of the other man’s abdomen, tracing the lines of muscle as his touch moved back up. His thumb brushing lightly across the other man’s nipple, making the angel jump slightly, and Dean couldn’t help but grin a little into the kiss. He did it again, and again, circling around the sensitive nub till it peaked.

Having this kind of power over a being as powerful as Castiel… Dean couldn’t deny it was thrilling, and hot as hell. 

* * *

"Never," Castiel confirmed, but was not about to admit he was getting advice from Jimmy on what he should be doing and how he should be doing it. Besides, he suspected that would potentially bother Dean that Jimmy was 'aware' of what was happening and Jimmy confirmed it likely would freak Dean the hell out so to just keep his mouth shut about it unless Dean directly asked him.

He moaned softly under the gentle touch of Dean's hand running over his chest, and sucked his stomach in to make it easier when Dean pulled his shirt free. Dean's palm was warm and felt nice as it traced over him. When it brushed over his nipple, Castiel's breath hitched. What…what was that? he wondered, hoping Dean would do it again, and Dean didn't disappoint.

The more Dean did it, the more intensely Castiel kissed him, trying to convey how much he liked what it was Dean was doing. Remembering Jimmy's words, he slipped his own hand around under Dean's shirt and tentatively began to toy with Dean's nipple. Not really sure what to do, he did his best to mimic Dean's touch. Then he recalled Jimmy had said twisting nipples was part of it so he gently tweaked Dean's nipple and smiled at the reaction he got. There was no doubt that Dean liked it and when Dean returned the favor, he understood why, his breath hitching and a moan slipping from his throat yet again.

* * *

Never…

Wow, Dean wished he'd been as quick a learner his first time. But the confirmation that this was indeed Castiel's first time sobered the young man a little. Not literally, because sober Dean probably wouldn't have had the guts to keep groping and kissing the angel breathless like a horny teenager on prom night. But it was enough to make him slow down a little despite the heat pumping through his veins. He kept kissing the angel but the kisses were less desperate and more intimate. Dean was suddenly determined that this… whatever it was… was going to be more than just a frenzied groping. After everything Castiel had done for him, he deserved more than that.

Dean smiled a little at the way Castiel mimicked his touch. The angel's warm hand caressing his chest before starting to toy with his nipple like he was doing, making Dean's breath hitch. Then the angel went further, pinching and tweaking the sensitive peak gently making Dean groan deeper into the kiss. The answering moan when Dean returned the favor making the heat in his veins travel in a distinct southern direction. To his amazement he felt his cock beginning to stir.

_"Like that?"_ Dean asked, unnecessarily. He could tell by the angel's reactions that he loved it, but he also wanted to give the other man the chance to say no if he wanted to. Dean didn't want to push the angel into something he didn't want or wasn't ready for. Hell, Dean didn't even really know where all this was coming from or where it was going, he was just kind of… going with the flow. With what felt right. Damn the consequences. He'd worry about them later. Probably when he was sober again.

Slowly Dean broke the kiss, pulling back so he could see the angel's face. Castiel's lips looked red, wet, and a little swollen and Dean knew his own probably looked no better. It was hard to resist the urge to keep on kissing the angel but he wanted to see Castiel's face for this. When his fingers stopped playing with the angel's chest and started drifting lower again. Past the waist band of the other man's pants, gently cupping and caressing Castiel's dick through the material.

_"Like this?"_   


* * *

The feelings Dean was generating in the human body was practically overwhelming to the angel. He heard Jimmy's snort of _"now you know how it feels"_ but chose to ignore him. All he wanted to focus on was the way Dean was touching him and kissing him and how it made the heart race and blood practically boil. Angels didn't have _this_ , neither amongst themselves nor with humans. He could see how easily it could distract one from being God's warriors, from loving Him, and being his caretakers…which obviously they'd pretty much screwed up since Earth was now in demon induced shambles. Maybe that was part of why Castiel wanted this…because he wasn't entirely certain how much longer the human race would exist, how much longer Earth might be inhabitable…and if even Heaven might fall to the demons. He'd been ordered to be among the humans and Dean…Dean he felt differently about than the others. He wanted to help Dean, to take care of him, to love him…and to _love_ him in the way of the humans.

He didn't want to stop kissing Dean, but he let Dean pull away. He would never force anything on Dean. At least, not if he could help it. Castiel glanced down at Dean's hand as his fingers drifted away from his nipples. His brow furrowed. Was that it? Dean Dean intend to sleep now? It wasn't uncommon, from what he'd seen, for two human to kiss for a bit and then stop and go their separate ways.

And then Dean's hand touched his cock and Castiel stopped breathing altogether. He shuddered, his eyes briefly closing as he caught his lower lip in teeth and nodded in response to Dean's question. His cock, already having begun to thicken, with Dean's touch, he felt the blood fill it and felt it stiffen and begin to leak. 

* * *

The angel’s reaction to just Dean’s light touch was so intense. The way his whole body trembled. His muscles tense. The expression of wonder and pleasure on his face. The confusion and maybe even a little fear flashing in the blue eyes before they rolled close in bliss. The angel arching into his touch and the feel of his cock growing firmer beneath Dean’s caress. If Dean’s heart did a little girly flip flop who could really blame him?

It _was_ intense. Almost overwhelming. And if it was so for Dean it must be doubly so for the angel who’d never experienced such feelings before. At least when Dean had begun having sex he’d already had plenty experience with his right hand long before that. But Castiel…

Dean’s fingers combed through Castiel’s hair in a soothing manner as his other hand continued to explore the heat between the angel’s legs. His fingers tracing the outline of his thickening shaft. Loving the way the angel reacted to his every touch no matter how light or firm. He ran his hand down the inside of the angel’s thigh, gently easing his legs apart to give him more room before his hand returned to where they both wanted it to be. His palm pressed against the hard length while his fingers curled lower, curling under his balls.

_“I’ll take that as a yes.”_ Dean replied, grinning ear from ear, trying to ease some of the tension. Maybe afraid one of them would snap if he didn’t.

When he couldn’t resist the enticing site of the angel biting his already kiss swollen lip any more Dean leaned in to press their mouths together once again. Licking across the abused lower lip and nipping it lightly, but he didn’t linger there long. His next series of kisses worked their way along the angel’s jaw to his ear which he nuzzled a little before moving on. Kissing his way down the other man’s neck until his lips met the collar of the angel’s shirt.

That’s when Dean decided it had to go.

Damn he wished he had more hands. His fingers combing through the angel’s hair one final time slipped down the back of his neck and then around to tug at the angel’s tie. Amusement flickered through him at first, then a bit of exasperation as he realized he was going to have to stop doing something if he wanted to complete his task. Either palming the angel’s hard dick through his pants or sucking a hickey into Castiel’s neck. Or maybe not.

_“This. Off. Now.”_ Dean tugged on the tie again for emphasis with a bit of amusement. Very articulate. But as long as it ensured cooperation he didn’t care. 

* * *

Castiel had really never fully appreciated the sensitivity of a man's cock, of everything in that general locale. His inner thighs, his balls, just, everything. The more Dean touched, even if it was merely ghosting over, had Castiel writhing a bit, gasping a bit, and biting down firmer on his lower lip.

He wasn't sure if he should try to copy Dean's actions but Dean's actions were so distracting and his mind just seemed to sort of…freeze up…now and again, he wasn't certain he could do it justice. After Dean was finished, yes, then he would try to emulate him and do for Dean what Dean was now doing for him.

He let Dean spread his legs, glancing down, a bit unsure of why Dean did it until Dean's next few motions. He spread his legs a little wider for him. _Mmmmm, yesssss,_ Castiel thought, just as Dean made his comment and he grinned, his eyes lighting up the way Castiel had wanted. He was just about to cup Dean's cheek, and tell him how his eyes shined when he was happy, when Dean leaned in and began kissing him again. The soothing motion of Dean's fingers carding through his hair was nice, it seemed to help ground him.

Castiel blinked at Dean's demand. With hardly a thought, his coat, shirt and tie were laying on the back of a nearby chair. "Is that adequate?" he asked softly, reaching up and stroking Dean's cheek.

* * *

One second Dean was fumbling with the angel’s tie, the next it was no longer in his hand at all, and Castiel didn’t seem to do anything. The surprise of it was enough to make Dean lift his head and his hand between the other man’s legs still. At first in surprise, but then in amusement when he saw the angel bare down to his waist and his clothes laying almost neatly nearby. Dean couldn’t help but laugh.

_“Much better.”_ Dean replied, grinning at the angel and then turning his head to kiss the palm that caressed his cheek.

He wanted to go back to what he’d been doing, but first he just wanted… to admire. His eyes roaming freely over the angel’s slightly flushed features, kiss swollen lips, the darkening mark Dean had left on his neck, and of course the well defined muscles of his shoulders, chest, and stomach now bare for the young man to see and touch as he wished. But the thing that kept drawing Dean back was those incredible blue eyes looking at him with such affection. Complete trust…

It wasn’t as though Dean could do anything to physically harm the angel, but still. As old and powerful as Castiel might be, he was also incredibly innocent and naïve about so many things. Especially in this area. Castiel trusted him enough to do this with him. To feel this with him. New feelings, new emotions, that must be at least a little bit frightening to the angel. Trusting Dean completely.

It was humbling.

Dean’s now free hand lifted and copied the angel’s caress, stroking Castiel’s cheek and then trailing down along the other man’s chest to caress the newly revealed skin. His other hand remained still for the moment. Still pressed firmly against the hard length, able to feel how hard and hot Castiel was, but not moving. One thing at a time, Dean thought to himself with a smile.

He kissed the angel again as his fingers began to toy with the nipple he’d neglected before. He just couldn’t seem to get enough of the angel’s lips, and it was a good thing Castiel didn’t seem to mind. But as before he didn’t linger there too long. Too many new experiences he wanted to share with the angel. So once again his lips began moving lower. Briefly nipping the darkening bruise he’d left on the angel’s throat. Dean wondered how Castiel was going to explain _that_ one later, with a grin. He licked along the angel’s collar bone and pressed several kisses to his chest.

Feeling a little mischievous Dean let his fingers trace along the angel’s ribs, an area Dean himself was incredibly ticklish. 

* * *

When Dean's warm lips pressed into his palm, Castiel most definitely felt a little stutter in his heartbeat, or maybe is was his stomach doing a flip-flop. At least figuratively. He bit back his groan when Dean's hand stilled over his cock. He had faith that Dean had his reasons.

He watched Dean as Dean seemed to study every inch of skin freshly exposed to him. His gaze kept returning to Castiel's eyes, but there wasn't a question in them. Dean just seemed to be _looking._ Admittedly, Castiel liked to look at Dean's face when Dean was sleeping. And any bit of freshly bared skin at his neck, or part of his shoulder or arm even, it all drew Castiel's gaze. He had counted Dean's eyelashes one night, amazed at how they arched slightly, how each one stood apart from its neighbor, and the slight variations in color. Dean's freckles he had also counted as he watched the shadows slowly cross over his face during the night.

At Dean's caress, he leaned into it, ready to turn and kiss Dean's palm, but already Dean's hand was moving down, exploring, then at his nipple, rubbing and tweaking, drawing soft sounds of approval from the angel. He sighed when Dean began kissing him again. He decided he liked human kissing a great deal. Likely it wouldn't be approved of if the higher angels discovered this, but at the moment, he didn't care. Maybe…maybe it was just _Dean_ kissing him that he liked so well. As soon as Dean began to move his kisses lower, the angel immediately missed pressing their lips together, but he certainly liked that Dean was kissing him elsewhere. He wondered where Dean's hand was wander to this time, what part of him it would explore, when suddenly a strange sensation ran through him. He jerked away, his golden wings spreading out as if ready to take flight, and a choked sound escaped him.

"What…?" Castiel asked, fully baffled by the feeling of being tickled.

* * *

When Castiel practically jumped out of his skin (if the sudden appearance of wings was any indication that assessment might be more literal than he thought) Dean couldn’t have stopped himself from laughing if he tried. So angel’s _were_ ticklish. Though it might only be because the angel was so highly sensitive already from what Dean was doing, not to mention he’d taken Castiel by surprise.

Dean filed the knowledge away. Seeing if he could make the big bad angel scream like a little girl from tickling could happen later. Right now he wanted to make Castiel scream for different reasons.

_“Sorry.”_ Dean replied, though his grin and mischievous look in his eyes told the truth. The young man gave the angel’s hard cock a gentle squeeze to make up for it before he continued to kiss his way down Castiel’s chest.

When he finally reached the other man’s nipples he let his tongue dart out to swipe across it. Grinning at the way the angel jumped again for different reasons. He flicked the sensitive nub a few more times with his tongue, and blew on it to help it peak. Enjoying the reactions he was getting, Dean closed his lips around it and sucked.

He kept his hand on Castiel’s cock still. Applying a slight pressure but not stroking it as he continued to play with first one and then the other nipple with his lips and tongue. He didn’t want to push the other man over the edge just yet. He didn’t want to torture Castiel, but he didn’t want it over too soon either.

He might not have much of a choice however. Just listening to Castiel moan and feeling the angel writhe beneath his touch was doing wicked things to his body. Dean was fully hard now. His jeans constricting and almost painful. He was glad Castiel’s pants seemed looser but it probably still wasn’t very comfortable.

Deciding he’d tortured the angel for long enough Dean finally lifted his head. Smiling at the other man who looked kind of… wrecked… just from that. Dean leaned in to capture the angel’s panting lips with his own again, moaning into the kiss as Dean went to work unbuckling, unbuttoning, and finally unzipping Castiel’s trousers.

Then Dean pulled back. Wanting to watch the angel’s face as his hand slipped into the angel’s open pants. His fingers curling around the hot naked column of flesh, and giving it a slow meaningful caress from base to tip. 

* * *

Although Dean apologized for the…whatever the feeling was he'd evoked…Castiel didn't believe the young man actually felt any remorse over it what-so-ever, and the angel gave him something of a suspicious look. That suspicion immediately faded away when Dean squeezed his dick and he knew his eyes probably sort of glazed over that point, especially with the follow-ups to it all of Dean taking an interest in his nipples. The feelings it shot through Castiel were approaching indescribable since every adverb Castiel started to consider all had religious overtones and he was _certain_ that would not be approved of. At least, not coming from him.

Dean squeezing him again and again made him shudder, right along with him shuddering and moaning and trembling as Dean sucked and toyed with sensitive areas of his chest. Then Dean was kissing him again, and he was very grateful for that. Kissing he "got," kissing he understood, and the feelings he felt while kissing Dean were manageable. And, of course, he enjoyed both the feelings and the kissing.

So focused on the kissing, he'd paid no attention to Dean loosening his pants. He more or less considered the clothing just an extension of the vessel, part of his "disguise." He hadn't given it much thought until Dean wanted him to remove the top portion of his clothes. Dean seemed interested now in the same for the lower parts of the clothing and Castiel was about to ask him if he wanted Castiel to shed the rest of his clothes when suddenly everything just sort of…stopped.

His mind froze. His breath froze. His body froze. Everything froze as Dean's warm hand encompassed his hard and sensitive cock and then slid that warm hand along it. Castiel's head fell back some as a new, deeper groan erupted from him. He had so many sensations rushing through him he couldn't address any one of them. So he didn't try. He just _felt_ and acknowledged that it felt _good._  


* * *

Dean licked his lips. They were suddenly feeling very dry despite how moist they'd been before with all the kisses he and Castiel had shared. He was so caught up with staring at the angel that he almost forgot to keep his hand moving. But who could really blame him for being distracted? After all, Castiel was… breathtaking.

Christ…

Castiel's cock felt like a hot rod of steel in his hand. He was that hard. Dean felt almost bad for teasing him for so long, but the feeling couldn't take hold given how much he was enjoying the effects his touch had on the angel. The expression of utter naked ecstasy on Castiel's face. The sounds he was making. He was just so… open. Completely unrestrained. Hell, the angel probably didn't even know how.

Dean liked it. Liked it a lot. There was no dishonesty. There was no deceit. There was no ulterior motive behind this. This was not a play of power. This was just pleasure. Comfort. Affection. It was real…

And Castiel was so damned beautiful…

Dean took his time learning the feel of the angel's cock. His fingers tracing along the thick vein underneath and the sensitive glands near the head. His thumb swirling around the tip and across the slit, spreading the leaking fluids around and then down the length of the shaft. Alternating the pressure and speed of his caresses and watching Castiel carefully to see what he enjoyed most. Though really he didn't think the angel was all that picky right now.

Wanting to pull more of those exquisite moans from the angel, not giving a damned who might overhear them outside if the angel got to loud, Dean started to stroke his lover's hard flesh faster. His other hand explored wherever he liked. Down along the angel's thighs. Or caressing the firm abs, loving the way the muscles jumped under his hands. Roaming across Castiel's chest to entice louder sounds from him, and then gently caressing his face or hair to sooth him.

_"Relax. Don't hold back."_ Dean said, kissing the angel and stroking his hair as his other hand moved faster along his cock. He had a feeling Castiel wasn't going to last much longer. The young man grinned into the kiss when a thought occurred to him. _"Just don't cause any earthquakes or something when you come."_

Earth shattering orgasm just took on a whole new meaning.

* * *

Every stroke of his flesh had Castiel practically spasming. These feeling were powerful. They coursed through him and he continued to let the feelings be voiced in moans and groans. Every touch by Dean practically made him jump, or made his muscle clench or flutter in response. To be human…meant one could have this. It meant only a brief life on Earth, a risk of going to Hell, and never feeling God they way angels felt His holiness.

But for the briefest of moments, Castiel wondered if it wouldn't be worth it.

Dean's words almost made him laugh. First he tells him to relax as he continues to stroke him faster and harder. Then he tells him not to hold back, but at the same time to keep his angelic powers under control when he…when Dean brought him…no. No, he did not feel heat color his face, he did not feel embarrassment for doing something an angel should not be doing…really shouldn't be…but it felt so-so-so…

"Unnnghhhh!" Castiel thrust his hips forward, crying out as he came. His golden wings appeared, huge and glowing, opening up and being curled and contained by the high ceiling of the cabin. The helium balloons bounced and swirled around them as a warm wind sent papers scattering. Small blue-white electrical bolts ricocheted between the wings and at one point lanced off to a balloon that popped loudly. Castiel continued groan as he thrust wantonly into Dean's hand, his cock spurting thick white ropes again and again.

* * *

Even though he knew how close the angel was, when the angel's orgasm hit it took Dean a bit by surprise. Dean felt the first spasm hit the angel, Castiel's whole body convulsing almost like he was having a seizure, and the young man pulled back. A little worried at first but then... mesmerized. He forgot how to breathe for a few moments. Castiel's face was a mask of ecstasy. His eyes were closed, lips parted and swollen from Dean's kisses, skin flushed and damp with perspiration, his head thrown back as he cried out loudly. He was so... beautiful. A powerful wave of lust and pleasure swept through Dean and he honestly wasn't sure if it was his own feelings or Castiel's. It left him breathless. Gasping. And he couldn't turn his eyes away.

The wings were back. Arching above their heads. Glowing and beautiful. Dean felt the electricity in the air even before he saw the electric jolts. The sight worried Dean for a moment, if Castiel lost control... but nothing happened. The ground didn't start to shake. Fire and brimstone didn't start falling from the heavens. A balloon popped and Dean's lips quirked a little in amusement in spite of himself, but the worry faded and Dean simply allowed himself... to enjoy the show.

His hand continued to move along the pulsing column of flesh, the angel's hot spunk coating his hand as he milked every drop from his lover. His stokes slowing, becoming more gentle and soothing rather than arousing as he tried to bring the angel down slowly. His fingers started playing in the angel's hair once more. Carefully combing through the dark locks that were now damp with sweat, aiming to calm.

Dean leaned in to press soft kisses to the angel's forehead, cheeks, and lips. Smiling again when it seemed his efforts were having the desired effect and he felt Castiel begin to relax a little after his powerful climax.

_"Easy. How do you feel?"_ Dean asked when he thought some higher brain functions might have returned to his lover. 

* * *

Castiel's moans finally softened when his balls stopped pulsing, and with it the fountains of hot cum. His vessel was coated in wetness…sweat…not something he had ever felt before in human form. It was odd to have bodily fluids erupting in a pleasurable fashion. Typically the only fluid he ever experienced was that of blood and with it, pain. Sweat, semen…next would he have need to piss and shit? No, that was far too human and if he became human he could not protect Dean.

His gaze went to Dean when Dean's fingers carded through his hair. "I…am not sure," Castiel finally answered him. "Angels do not…shed…fluids. Neither do we sleep, yet were I not an angel, I sense that I would soon be asleep…perhaps in your arms. My body still thrums with…aftershocks of…this." Castiel found it a little harder than normal to string together the human words. Enochian words flowed quietly from him as he tried to explain to himself and to Dean what he felt and the myriad thoughts possessing him. He didn't know if Dean understood Enochian, but assumed he probably would not.

After the handful of sentences, telling Dean things he would not…could not…tell him in human speech, he reached out and caressed Dean's cheek. "I enjoy our kisses," he said, smiling slightly at Dean. "And I have…enjoyed this. Would you like for me to give you this gift as well? This…stroking pleasure? Or should I clean us both up now? Or I could get…get you more…balloons if that would help you keep the smile you now have." Running his thumb over Dean's lips, his gaze shifted from Dean's eyes, to Dean's mouth, then back to his eyes. Searching the depths of Dean's gaze, he tried to fathom what might be in Dean's mind and waited for Dean to speak. Even as he did, he pulled his wings back in, but did not yet hide them.

* * *

It was really difficult to keep a straight face. Especially when Castiel talked about 'shedding fluids' Dean couldn't help but chuckle softly. Well, that was one way of putting it. The idea of Castiel falling asleep in his arms. Dean might not have ever been much of a cuddler, his long line of one night stands really didn't include much beyond a shower and kiss goodbye after the fact.

Dean refused to even consider thinking about the demons ideas of post coital activities... or Sam. Though Sam sometimes slept with him after he was done using him, Dean had never felt comfortable or safe in the younger man's arms.

Thankfully the feelings... words... he felt coming from the angel kept the memories firmly in the shadows where they belonged. He couldn't understand the words Castiel whispered in his head, but they were soothing and comforting all the same. Too bad angel's didn't sleep. He kind of liked the idea of being able to hold Castiel in his arms.

Dean returned the angel's smile.

_"I enjoyed it too."_ He admitted. Though Castiel's offer gave him a pause. He was still hard, and a part of him wanted to take up the angel's offer, letting Castiel try out some of the things Dean had shown him. But another part of him was afraid that might just open Pandora's box, make him remember things he didn't want to, and that would pretty much ruin the moment.

Dean kissed the finger brushing over his lips.

_"We should probably clean up now. Don't know when Bobby might be back. But..."_ Dean gave the angel's softening member a final gentle caress before releasing him. _"Maybe we can do this again some time? And, no, I don't need more balloons, but thanks."_ He couldn't help but chuckle softly at the last part.

Dean's attention diverted a little to the golden glowing wings when they fluttered to a more relaxed position and the young man felt an intense urge to touch them. In fact he started to reach out to do so but stopped himself. He didn't want to... offend Castiel or something. Which just felt silly even to him considering what they'd just done, but this seemed different somehow. 

* * *

"Very well," Castiel said, cleaning away any signs of what they'd done with barely a thought. Dean's clothes, Dean's hand, Bobby's couch and floor, his own skin; all remnants of sweat and cum were gone in an instant. "Now no one will know unless you wish them to," Castiel said, running his finger through Dean's hair. "Yes I would like…I would enjoy repeating this. Perhaps next time I will stroke and you can enjoy the feelings. And we should kiss often during it," Castiel said, liking it when Dean kissed his fingers.

"No more balloons. As you wish. But if your smile disappears, I will bring you more since they made you smile and laugh."

He watched as Dean started to reach out to touch his wings, but stopped himself, seeming almost embarrassed to want to touch them. Yet, Castiel could see the desire in Dean's face.

"You may touch them if you wish but know they are closer to my true essence than touching any other part of me. You will likely feel energy, peace, tranquility. Perhaps something of His Grace. Touching them will cause you no harm, however, it is best to be certain I am aware you are going to touch them. I would not want to inadvertently defend myself and hurt you." Castiel extended them, curling them forward to put them within easy reach of Dean. "Go on, if you wish." 

* * *

The words seemed barely out of the angel's mouth before the sticky wetness on Dean's fingers disappeared, and the young man blinked in surprise. The light sheen of sweat that had coated Castiel's skin, hair, and face was gone too. Aside from the fact that the angel was still naked from the waist down... and that Dean still had his hand down the angel's pants... they both looked fairly presentable now. And, no, that wasn't disappointment he felt at not being able to share a shower or something to clean up with the angel. Not that they really could, given hot water was a pretty big luxury in the camp. Oh well.

Dean withdrew his hand from the angel's trousers but let it rest lightly on Castiel's stomach. Sue him, but he liked touching Castiel. He liked it even more when the angel agreed that they could do it again sometime. Dean didn't want this to be a one time thing between them. He hoped he'd feel the same once he was sober again. Though in truth he was feeling pretty clear headed right now. Maybe he wasn't as drunk as he originally thought. Or maybe he'd simply used it as an excuse to do what he really wanted.

_"We can definitely kiss more."_ Dean agreed, leaning in to do just that, and tracing small circles with his fingertips along the angel's stomach. If he wasn't so worried about Bobby walking in on them any moment he might have suggested they do more now.

Dean drew back again with a soft sigh, doing his best to ignore the lingering hard on in his jeans. Best not to do anything to encourage that if he wanted it to be gone before the older hunter returned.

When Castiel gave him permission to touch his wings, Dean was still a bit unsure. He wanted to but at the same time he felt he shouldn't. Right, like shoving his hand down the angel's pants was something he _should_ have done. Probably not. He probably shouldn't do this either, but it didn't stop him from reaching out again. His hand only hesitating a moment before running down one of the long golden feathers extended towards him.

It was... strange. It felt a little bit like a low electric current passing through his fingers and up his arm, but it wasn't painful. He felt a wave of... calmness... peace... wash over him that was indescribable. The feathers, they looked like feathers except for their luminescence, and they even felt soft like feathers. But at the same time they were almost insubstantial. His fingers passing through them like they were made of air or light. Dean couldn't stop himself from stroking them over and over, mesmerized.

_"What does it feel like, when I touch them?"_ He asked curiously after a while.

* * *

When Dean drew away after kissing him again, Castiel wanted to wrap his arms around Dean and pull him close and not stop their kissing. He saw the bulge in the cloth of Dean's groin and knew Dean must be firm like he had been. Perhaps there was a reason he didn't want the angel touching him. He had been through many trials at the hands of the demons, of that Castiel had no doubt. Perhaps he could not tolerate the thought of anyone ever touching him in such a way again. Castiel hoped that was not case because he would like to do the stroking pleasure for Dean at some point.

Castiel smiled to himself as he watched Dean, still hesitant to touch his wings. He wondered if they frightened Dean, or if they made Castiel too different to readily accept, or if Dean was religious and felt it was blasphemy of some sort to touch his wings. Stroking him, Dean had been in fact stroking the vessel he was in. Touching his wings, Dean would actually be _touching_ Castiel.

Dean's touch on his wings actually made him jump a little. He was not accustomed to letting his wings materialize on this plane and certainly not use to the touch of human. When he was in Heaven, he was in his true form and the humans there did not approach him, usually, they didn't even see him. Being touched by one of his brothers or sisters, there was an exchange of energy after a fashion. This…this was quite different. As mesmerized as Dean was stroking his feathers, Castiel was nearly mesmerized having them stroked.

The question gave him pause. What _did_ it feel like?

"It feels like…a gentle spring storm. Fresh, revitalizing, soothing. Something I would gladly sit here for a long time to experience. In some ways, it perhaps feels as it does when I comb my fingers through your hair. Your hair can not 'feel' my touch yet you are aware of it. I imagine it would feel even more…interesting…if you were to touch other parts of my wings.

* * *

Dean couldn't help but smile and chuckle a little at the angel's explanation. Fresh? Well, that was a new one. As his fingers stroked down the longer feathers near the end of the wing he felt them stretch and shiver a little under his touch. It felt more like he was petting a big cat or something than a giant bird. Dean half expected the angel to start purring any second. Especially when Castiel admitted that he wouldn't mind Dean doing this for an extended period of time.

_"Oh really?"_ Dean asked, looking at the angel with a raised eyebrow when Castiel suggested that he touch different places on the wings. He wondered exactly what the angel meant by 'interesting'. Well, there was only one way to find out.

Feeling bolder, and deciding he wanted both hands for this, Dean shifted his position on the couch and straddled the angel's thighs. Once he was comfortable, he went back to stroking the long feathers. Each hand mirroring the other, touching each wing. Stroking down the long feathers and then carefully back up, doing his best not to ruffle them or anything. As he moved up the feathers became shorter, and softer, if possible. The tingling sensation remained, and might have even grown stronger. Until his hands finally reached the top of the wings where the muscles and bones extending them were.

He couldn't touch the very ends of the wings like this, Castiel's wingspan was just too wide for that. But he reached as far as he could and then let his hands caress in a downward motion towards the angel's back. Following the wings all the way down to where they joined just underneath the shoulder bones. Dean examined the area pretty thoroughly, running his hands down the angel's back and then back up the wings. While he did he couldn't help but press his bound erection against the angel's stomach. The slight friction only seeming to enhance the tingling sensation traveling through his body as he touched the wings, or maybe vice versa.

_"How's that?"_

* * *

Castiel furrowed his brow. Had he not been clear? He was enjoying the touch of Dean's hands on his wings and was willing to sit there as long as Dean enjoyed stroking his feathers. Other areas of his wings were far more sensitive, and a few places were less so.

His eyebrows raised when Dean straddled him and then Dean began stroking his wings in tandem. Castiel couldn't help but breathe deeply and close his eyes. It was so soothing, so enjoyable in a way he really couldn't convey to someone who was not an angel. He gave a slight shudder when Dean's gentle hands touched muscle and nerves. Then Dean's hands slid down to where angel wings met human form and flesh. He bit back the soft groan and had to force himself to stay aware and in the human vessel. His angelic form wanted to drift out and let those hands touch other parts of him that he had never had an interest in being stroked or touched before.

The firmness of Dean's erection, rubbing against his stomach as Dean toyed with his wings, was arousing in ways Castiel didn't expect.

When Dean looked at him and asked how it was, a heat came into Castiel's eyes and he wrapped his arms around Dean and pulled him into a feverish kiss, exploring Dean's mouth with his tongue, exploring Dean's body with his hands and rubbing back against Dean's hardness. When he finally let Dean breathe again, his own words were thick. "It was good, very good. Would you…would you like to return to the cabin for awhile? The meeting," Castiel swallowed and glanced toward the door, "the meeting will be over shortly and Bobby will return."

* * *

If the look on the angel's face and the sounds he was making were anything to go by, Dean must have been doing something right. Then Castiel was wrapping his arms around him, pulling him even closer, and kissing the daylights out of him. Yes, definitely something right, Dean thought as he groaned into the kiss. Angel foreplay... he was definitely going to have to remember this for later.

Dean was left breathing hard once more when Castiel allowed him up for air, and the angel's offer to take them back to the cabin to... continue... was definitely a tempting one.

But he felt bit guilty for disappearing on Bobby again. He didn't want the older man to worry about him, and coming home to find him gone, so close after the last time, probably would worry him. Dean and the angel both would probably get an earful when they got back. That wasn't even counting that this meeting was probably damned important and Dean really needed to know what had been discussed, even if a big part of him didn't want to deal with it right now.

However any hope of his arousal going away by the time Bobby returned was pretty much shot out of the water right now. And there were definitely some things you just didn't share with even your closest friends. They would probably only be gone for a little while, and it would give Dean some extra time to prepare for whatever news Bobby had.

_"Alright. Yes. I'd like that."_ Dean said with a nod, but then a thought occurred to him. _"Hold on. Wait a second."_ He added before the angel could just blink them away, and as much as he hated to do it he climbed off the angel's lap. His jeans were definitely much tighter than before, and it didn't make walking very fun, but thankfully he didn't have to go very far.

Dean picked up his slate and chalk and wrote a quick message on it.

_Gone out with Cas. Back in a few._ Dean set it down on top of the bags of gifts Castiel had gotten for me, where it would be clearly visible and would hopefully prevent Bobby from freaking out.

_"Ok. We can go now."_ Dean told the angel, smiling as he held out his hand. 

* * *

Castiel took Dean's hand and pulled Dean close, pulling Dean in so they were chest to chest as he wrapped his other arm around Dean and began kissing him. While he was kissing him, he transported them both to the cabin. The fire in the fireplace re-ignited and with barely a thought, furs appeared in front of the fireplace. He led Dean over to them so he could soak in the warmth of the fire.

"It would take time for the bedroom to warm though we can wait if you would like, but these are soft," he said as he began to loosen Dean's pants. Castiel paused and looked into Dean's eyes. "This…all of this…what we have done and are soon to do…I do not wish to hurt you, or cause you to feel forced or tricked. Anything you don't want, you need only say stop or no. If you would rather I not touch you and you only touch me, simply say so." He moved one hand to Dean's cheek, cupping it. "I treasure all humans, but you, I treasure…more." He leaned in and kissed Dean gently, almost tentatively, yet lovingly, as he loosened Dean's pants and began to work them down Dean's hips. Once Dean's pants were part way down his hips, he began stripping Dean out of his layers of shirts. Each time new skin was exposed, he touched it, kissed it, breathing in Dean's scent. His wings faded in and out of view at first, then began to solidify more as his hands slowly investigated Dean's body.

He finally pulled the last shirt off of Dean and took a step back, studying Dean's body much the way Dean had studied his. It was his turn to be hesitant as he reached out and ran his fingers up Dean's ribcage until he reached a nipple and began to toy with it the way Dean had played with his. He watched Dean very closely, wanting to be certain Dean was enjoying what he was doing.

* * *

Dean's heart sped up and his stomach fluttered in a way that wasn't quite nervousness as he watched the angel rise gracefully from the couch and take his hand. The kiss Castiel gave him did well to distract him from strange feeling and slight vertigo he always felt when the angel zapped him from one place to another. Damn, but Castiel really was a fast learner. Dean knew the slightly dazed feeling he had after the angel finally let him up for air had more to do with the kiss than the mode of transportation.

The cabin was just as they'd left it. Well, slightly cooler now, but the fire going in the fireplace would probably take the chill out of the air soon enough. The blanket of furs lying in front of it were definitely new though, and Dean had to bite his cheek to keep himself from laughing in amusement. He almost wanted to ask if some of the books Bobby had given Castiel to read had been cheesy romance novels.

_"This is fine."_ Dean replied, still grinning in amusement, though his amusement began to fade quickly when Castiel started to work at his jeans. Dean couldn't deny the pang of nervousness that shot through him. Hadn't he just thought he wasn't ready for this? Now here they were...

Was he having second thoughts? How could he not? But although he was definitely nervous he wasn't afraid. Castiel's words of reassurance, the gentle touch to his cheek, Dean nodded in understanding. Believing him. He knew Castiel wouldn't hurt him. At least, not on purpose. He knew the angel wasn't forcing or tricking him into this either. When Sam had forced him, he'd felt pleasure, desire, but at the same time he'd known he was being forced to feel these things. What he was feeling with Cas now, it was real.

When Castiel said he... treasured him... more than other humans. Dean couldn't deny he liked hearing that. A lot. Dean returned the kiss he was given. Wrapping his arms around the angel's back and moaning into it. Not protesting when he felt his jeans being pushed down, freeing his almost painful erection. He even lifted up his arms without prompting to allow Castiel to pull off his upper clothing, until he was standing nearly naked in front of the angel.

Even though the angel had already seen him clothed in a lot less, Dean suddenly felt a bit shy. Which was just shocking as hell, considering everything he'd been through, he would have sworn before now that he was incapable of the feeling anymore. Even before the demons, Dean hadn't been all that shy about his body. But for some reason, now he was. He wanted Castiel to like what he saw.

Thankfully before Dean could get too nervous worrying about what the angel thought, the angel's touch returned. Gliding up his ribs, making Dean's lips twitch a little before the angel's fingers found one of his nipples. His breath hitched in his throat as the sensitive nub peaked under the touch. A shiver of pleasure running through the young man's body, and he couldn't deny he wanted the angel to touch him more.

_"It's ok. It's good."_ Dean reassured. 

* * *

When Dean acknowledged Castiel was doing a good job of emulating his movements, he grew a little bolder. Licking his lips, he leaned in and kissed Dean, running both hands up and down his back, then began kissing his way down to Dean's jaw which he nipped lightly, then to Dean's neck. He nuzzled it and captured some flesh which he sucked on and toyed with. When he pulled back, he saw that he'd left a mark there and felt a pang of concern. He should heal that…but Jimmy told him not to, that that was sort of the point of the neck-sucking. Along with it feeling good. Still Castiel glanced into Dean's face to make certain he was enjoying Castiel's actions. Seeing nothing but pleasure and approval in the man's face, he returned to nuzzling Dean's neck then slowly kissed his way down to Dean's nipple. He stared at it a moment, then latched onto it and sucked on it, twirling his tongue around and around it, feeling it pebble from the attention.

Pleased with Dean's reactions, he gave that nipple a bit more attention before switching to the other one. As he did so, he gently cupped Dean's groin, wanting to finger and exploring through Dean's undershorts but unsure if Dean wanted that from him. He pulled off Dean's nipple and checked Dean's face. "Is this…good?" he asked. "Shall I continue?"

* * *

It seemed like that small bit of encouragement was all the angel needed. When Castiel leaned in to kiss him again, Dean closed his eyes and gave himself over to the feelings the angel was giving him. The warm hands caressing his back was calming, soothing, a sharp contrast to his growing desire and the throbbing in his groin.

Castiel once more left him gasping when his lips were released, and Dean let his head fall back with a moan as those surprisingly talented lips moved down his jaw to his neck. His hands came up to grasp the angel's shoulders for support as the sucking on his throat seemed to travel straight to his dick.

He almost laughed at the feeling. Thankfully he didn't. He didn't want Castiel to get the wrong idea. Like he wasn't enjoying it or Dean was making fun of his efforts. It definitely wasn't that. It was just so... Dean never thought he'd feel like this with anyone ever again. At least, not with a guy. Before his imprisonment in hell he'd never even considered being with a dude before. But now here he was, getting all hot and bothered with an _angel_...

Dean missed it when Castiel's lips left his throat, but he definitely enjoyed the direction they were heading. He watched through hooded eyelashes, his lips twitching a little as Castiel stopped and stared with surprising intensity at his chest. He wasn't sure if it was because he was unsure what to do next or what, but he didn't pause for very long and Dean groaned when the angel began licking and sucking on his nipple.

Dean's fingers found their way into the angel's hair. Petting through the soft strands as the angel continued to play with his nipples. The hand cupping his cock through his underwear made Dean tense, his eyes snapping open in surprise. But looking down into the angel's concerned eyes, every gesture radiating uncertainty but an intense eagerness to please, Dean felt his nervousness melting away.

He licked his lips and nodded.

_"It's good. Very good."_ Dean reassured, running his fingers gently through the angel's hair once more before letting one of his hands reach down to cover the hand cupping him. Encouraging the angel to touch him more. 

* * *

He liked the way Dean's fingers ran through his hair and gained some understanding of why humans found it soothing. It wasn't nearly as soothing as when Dean was stroking his feathers…and he didn't understand why Jimmy burst into laughter at that thought.

Still laughing, Jimmy managed to say to him _Oh, baby, stroke my feathers. Faster, harder..._ then began laughing again. Castiel still didn't understand but humans were strange sometimes.

When Dean's warm hand rested over the hand Castiel was cupping Dean's groin with and told him it was good, a small knot of fear eased inside of him. He had not been certain Dean would want such a thing from him though Castiel very much wanted to bring pleasure to the young man.

Slowly, carefully, Castiel investigated Dean's cock and balls through the material of his undershorts, noticing what made Dean's breath hitch, what brought a small gasp or groan, and what garnered little reaction at all. Finally he stopped and locked gazes with the young man. Seeing heat and desire and other human emotions Castiel didn't fully grasp or was unable to name, he used both hands to grip Dean's undershorts and pull them down, pushing them until gravity took them to the floor.

"In front of the fire is warm," Castiel said, and guided Dean the few steps to the soft furs. He gently tugged Dean down, as he himself laid in the furs, folding his wings in close but leaving them visible. "Would you…slowly stretch your arms up, above your head for me?" Castiel asked. "Your body is beautiful. I would like to see you stretch, your muscles flexing, the firelight gleaming over them, the shadows making them even more beautiful." He felt a slight heat color his face. "That is a ridiculous request, isn't it? It is your turn to be pleasured, to be stroked. Forgive me," he said, and reached out, wrapping his hand around Dean's thick and leaking cock. "After you have reached pleasure, perhaps then you would do this for me?" he asked, beginning to lean in to kiss Dean.

* * *

His reassurances seemed to relax the angel. Though Dean couldn't help but wonder at the slight look of confusion that passed over Castiel's face. Maybe he hadn't been clear enough? Or maybe the angel wasn't sure what to do next. So far Castiel had been pretty much copying what Dean had done to him, but the angel had been pretty out of it, Dean thought with a grin, when he'd started touching his cock.

But before Dean could ask Castiel if he needed, well, help or something, the angel began touching him. Such an intense look of concentration on the angel's face it made the young man smile in amusement. The touches were light, almost hesitant at first. Teasing, though the angel probably wasn't meaning to be. Lightly tracing his fingers along the hard length of his shaft through the thin material of his underwear. Drifting lower to cup and caress his balls, almost like he was testing the weight of him.

The angel's touch quickly grew bolder however, and with the firmer touch Dean's breathing quickly grew more uneven. When Castiel ran his palm firmly up and down the length of his straining shaft Dean's breath caught in his throat. When the angel's fingers started tracing around the wet spot that had formed at the head of his dick. The damp material rubbing against the sensitive glands underneath his crown, Dean's eyes rolled back a little and he had to grip the other man's shoulders when his knees went a little weak.

When the angel suddenly stopped, Dean's eyes snapped open, and he would have made a sound of complaint if he could. The look in the angel's eyes was intense, and it made Dean's pulse kick up another notch. He felt the other man's fingers hook into his last article of clothing and they were quickly eased down to join the rest of his clothing laying discarded on the floor.

He wasn't sure if the air was cool, or if his skin was feverish, but it made Dean suddenly hyper aware of his nudity and every inch of his flesh seem more sensitive somehow. At Castiel's suggestion they move closer to the fire, Dean nodded. It wasn't exactly nervousness he felt when he let the angel guide him over to the bed of furs in front of the fire. Maybe it was anticipation. As he followed Castiel's lead, laying down on the little next the angel had made for them, he couldn't help but admit maybe all those cheesy romance novels had a point. The soft furs caressing his bare skin felt incredibly sensual.

Castiel's request surprised him a bit, he wasn't sure why at first, but as the angel went on he thought he understood and blushed a little at the compliments. But before he could comply, the angel retracted his request... because he thought he was being selfish? That's what it sounded like as wrapped his hand around his dick... which felt really damned good, Dean couldn't deny that... but Dean reached down to still the angel's hand and rested a hand on Castiel's shoulder to hold him back, just for a second.

_"It's not ridiculous, you're allowed to ask me anything you want. I might say no, but I won't be mad if you ask for something. The same thing goes both ways, if I ask for something, but you don't want to do it, that's all right, ok?"_ Dean said with a smile, shifting his hand from the angel's shoulder to his cheek. Stroking the angel's face gently. _"I want you to be happy too. This should be for both of us, not just me. Do you understand?"_

Dean hoped he was explaining it in a way the angel understood. It wasn't as though Castiel was asking for anything super weird, just a little posing, and if it would make the angel happy. So with a smile Dean slowly started to raise his arms up above his head like the angel had asked. He tilted his head back and let his eyes drift closed. Stretching his arms and arching his back. The fur caressing his skin as he flexed and relaxed his muscles. Though Castiel hadn't asked for it, he stretched his legs out too. Letting his thighs slide apart a little more as he flexed his muscles and curled his toes a little into the soft fur.

He finally slit open his eyes to look at the angel through hooded lashes. Trying to judge how his little display had affected his lover. 

* * *

When Dean stopped him, he was certain he had offended Dean or done something wrong, or was moving too quickly…something. He was no good at being human. He'd proven that multiple times already. He never should have brought up his desire to see Dean stretch as he asked him to. It was his desire to see Dean stretch as if he had wings, like an angel would, and that was sort of…embarrassing? He wasn't sure if that was the right description. He had never appreciated such things in his fellow angels, but then, the angelic forms and human forms were different. Dean was so beautiful though, he should have been an angel. Perhaps he would have even rivaled Lucifer. Not that Castiel had ever actually seen the fallen arch angel, but even so, he couldn't imagine the arch angel could be that much more beautiful than the human before him.

Castiel tilted his head a little as Dean spoke, telling him it was okay to ask anything. And what could Dean possibly ask of him that he would deny him? Had he not always done as the man had asked? Or at least tried to? He couldn't help but press his cheek against Dean's warm palm. He liked it when Dean did that, touched him in that way.

He tried to process what Dean said. Dean wanted him…happy. Castiel could be pleased, but he didn't think that was the same as happy. He wasn't certain he could feel human _happiness._ Angel emotions and humans emotions were different in ways that could not be expressed. Angelic emotions were limited, stark, intense, and simple. What was right was right. What was wrong was wrong. God was to be loved and above all, obeyed. His creations and Heaven were to be protected from the fallen.

…But so much had changed. Demons roamed the Earth. Angels fought demons at the gates of Heaven. If the Boy-King were to find his way to Heaven's gate, they might not be able to stand against him. The arch-angels were already worried and concerned, something arch angels were not supposed to be…

And then Dean stretched and Castiel's attention snapped fully to the human. The flames of the fireplace bronzed his skin, making it glow. As every muscle moved Castiel watched intensely. His hands drifted over Dean's body though he never touched his skin. When Dean parted his thighs and arched up, Castiel glanced down in surprise as his own cock stiffened sharply.

Hunger of a sort he had not felt seemed to fill every fiber of his being as he stared at Dean's body. With barely a thought, the rest of his own clothes were gone. Straddling Dean in a fashion not terribly different from how Dean had straddled him and stroked his wings, he ran his hands slowly up Dean's biceps, then his forearms, to his hands where he intertwined their fingers. Golden wings snapped up and spread out, as Castiel's lips brushed over Dean's.

"I like this," Castiel whispered before he began to kiss Dean with the passion of an angel.

* * *

Well, it certainly seemed like Castiel enjoyed Dean's little display. If the hungry intensity that the young man saw in the angel's eyes as Castiel watched him was any indication. It made a shiver go through Dean's body that bordered on real nervousness. It was just so... intense. Then between one heartbeat and the next, Castiel was as naked as he was, and straddling his thighs. Pinning him to the floor. The angel's hands gripping his. The sudden realization of just how helpless he was right now produced a flash of real fear in the young man for a moment.

But then Castiel was kissing him, so hard, so hot, it made Dean's brain practically melt. It felt good. So very good Dean couldn't help but moan and arch against the other man's body. On the one hand it was terrifying having all that naked... power... literally on top of him, but at the same time it was thrilling. Though Castiel had seemed to enjoy everything they had done so far, this might have been the first display of real desire the angel had shown. Desire for _him_.

The angel wasn't trying to control Dean or force himself on him. Castiel had been nothing but gentle and loving with him. Even now the angel wasn't hurting him in any way. He was just... excited. If Dean said stop, he had no doubt the angel would stop. He might be helpless, but he was also in complete control. The fear melted away and desire replaced it.

Dean groaned into the kiss and gave back as good as he got. His fingers curled around the angel's and he arched beneath him. Rubbing his body against his lover's and feeling another wave of pleasure wash over him when he felt the angel's hard cock slide against his own. 

* * *

The hunger Castiel felt for Dean was surely not angelic, and yet, in a way it felt like it might be a touch of the human Heaven he could never be fully part of or understand. He was unsure exactly what he hungered for, or how to satisfy a craving, when 'craving' and 'hunger' were not anything he had ever experienced.

Dean's fingers tightening around his own sent a surge of pleasure through him. He knew it was special, that it meant something to Dean that Castiel was here, now, with him. When Dean arched against him and their leaking cocks rubbed together, the air rushed from Castiel's lungs. There was more than one way to have the stroking pleasure, he realized. It felt the same and yet it felt different. Things he had seen humans do crystallized and were suddenly clarified in his mind.

"I understand…some, at least, I understand," Castiel said. "Thank you for this, Dean. Thank you." He pressed more firmly against Dean, trying to figure out the right rhythm but quickly gave up. He simply thrust against Dean and let Dean make the adjustments and extra thrusts and special touches.

Capturing Dean's mouth again, he gave a gentle downsweep of his wings lifting both of them into the air. Feeling the tension enter his lover, he rolled over so Dean was on top, though they still hovered a foot or so from the ground and soft furs. Gripping Dean's ass cheeks, Castiel ground up against him, groaning in pleasure. 

* * *

Dean wasn't sure he'd ever get tired of that look of surprised pleasure that passed over the angel's face every time the young man did something new. It was endearing in a way he couldn't really describe. Though the angel was thousands of years old, maybe more, experienced in things Dean couldn't even fathom, in this he was completely innocent. Every kiss, every caress, was something new and precious to the angel. Untainted...

His years of imprisonment. The things the demons, Azazel, even his own brother, had done to him. Dean was well aware that it had left a stain on his soul that would never wash away. But with Castiel, now, that time seemed very far away. That he could feel this kind of pleasure with someone again, this kind of trust, it was nothing short of a miracle.

He wasn't even sure exactly how Castiel had done it. Wormed his way into the young man's heart. When distrust had become trust. When it had transformed into friendship and... more...

Dean wasn't sure what Castiel meant when he said he 'understood' now. But one thing was for sure, it was Dean who should be thanking the angel. For making him feel like he was _worth_ something again. For making him feel human again. Not a prisoner. Not a pet. Not a fuck toy.

He might have told the angel this, or something equally mushy, but Castiel chose that moment to start thrusting against him and Dean kind of forgot how to think. His head fell back and his lips parted in breathless gasps as the pleasure built. As he rolled his hips and thrust back against the angel, trying to find some kind of rhythm rather than just a frantic rutting but it was a bit difficult. Not that it mattered since it was still good. Damned good.

Dean groaned into the heated kiss the angel gave him, though pleasure turned into surprise when he suddenly felt his back leave the fur, and the floor, underneath him. He instinctively wrapped his legs around the angel's hips, and gripped his shoulders for support, then suddenly he found their positions reversed. He stared down at the angel in shock, still a bit unsure what the hell had just happened until he realized that Castiel was still kind of... hovering... a little off the ground. Then he couldn't help but laugh. Well, this was definitely a first for Dean.

His laughter was cut off by a pleasured gasp however when Castiel's hands gripped his ass and the angel thrust against him. Taking the hint, Dean smiled down at his lover, gripping the angel's shoulders for support, he began moving against the angel. Rocking their lower bodies together. Their hard shafts sliding side by side, caught between their stomachs slick with sweat and pre-cum. Having been on the edge for so long already Dean knew he wasn't going to last much longer like this.

He thrust against the angel harder, faster, his breath catching with every ripple of pleasure that traveled through his body at the friction. His muscles tensed and his eyes rolled back, his breath caught in his throat as his whole body shuddered and froze. His balls tightened and his cock started to pulse, shooting slick ropes of cum across the angel's stomach while Dean groaned in pleasure.

* * *

Even feeling his own pleasure, pleasures he had never truly experienced before, he could feel Dean's as well. Instinctively he knew something was healing inside of Dean, something broken but intangible, something no mere healing touch from the angel could have healed. He savored the maelstrom of feelings, knowing the feelings Dean was having were…important.

Dean's smile was sweet, knowing, and…attractive. _Sexy,_ Castiel amended, having never understood that term before now. The way Dean moved, moans spilled freely from Castiel. He rocked back against Dean and the way their cocks rubbed back and forth beside one another, while also being stimulated by the fluttering muscles of their stomachs…it was wonderful. Castiel would enjoy doing this for a long time, though Dean's message to his friend implied Dean didn't plan for them to be gone terribly long. He could always change Dean's message if need be, he mused.

The change swelled over Dean as his breath caught and Castiel could feel the way he shuddered against him. Before, when Castiel had been given pleasure, it had erupted suddenly. He felt the ecstasy rip through Dean's body as hot spunk covered Castiel's stomach. Without intending to, Castiel reacted, his own balls cramping and squeezing and he gave a shout as they both spilled their seed, pulsing and throbbing against each other.

Castiel slowly let them sink down into the furs, then curled his wings to wrap around Dean even as his arms wrapped around the man's back. He kissed the panting human, letting Dean take in breaths as needed. "That was…very pleasant…" Castiel frowned a moment and then gave a slight nod to himself. "Hot. That was very hot and…sexy," he said, prompted by a wincing Jimmy to correct his terminology.

"You are hot and sexy and I…like that very much. Was I…enjoyable?" Castiel asked, hoping that he had done well enough that Dean would want to do it again. Perhaps if Dean were 'healed' he would not need to do it a second or third time, but Castiel could hope.

* * *

  


Feeling Castiel's hot seed splash against his own stomach made Dean moan and shudder, his cock pulsing again and again until he was completely spent. The feelings, both physical and emotional, rushing through him left him gasping and trembling a little. Overwhelmed. Yes, that was a good word for it. So many conflicting feeling battling inside of him and all he could do was hold onto Castiel as if for dear life.

But then he felt the soft brush of feathers against his flesh, feelings of peace and comfort wrapping around him like a blanket, before Castiel's arms did the same. Dean closed his eyes and just... let go. That was really the only way he could describe it. It was like a knot untying inside of him. A tension leaving that had been there for so long he no longer realized it until it was gone.

He allowed himself to collapse and lay heavily against the angel's chest. Allowed himself to be held. Kissed softly. A smile curving his lips when Castiel said it had been 'very pleasant'. Well, that was an understatement. Though when the angel amended his comment one of Dean's eyes cracked open in amusement.

Hot? Sexy? Where the hell had Castiel picked _that_ up? Who knows. He'd told Ellen to stop acting like she was on the rag, after all. He could have picked it up anywhere. Dean chuckled softly at Castiel's question and pushed himself up a little to look down at the angel. He smiled and ran his fingers tenderly through the other man's hair.

_"You were very hot and sexy."_ Dean reassured the angel, then brought their mouths together and kissed the angel hot enough to hopefully make his toes curl. 

* * *

Castiel found a smile tugging at his lips and when Dean confirmed he had done well, and he even felt a little something in his chest when Dean called him hot and sexy. Castiel was still processing what Dean had said and how it made him feel when suddenly Dean was kissing him again. Not just kissing but _kissing._

Their tongues were warring slipping back and forth from his mouth, to Dean's, and then back again. Castiel found his wings were shifting restlessly and heat was building inside him again. His hands roamed over Dean's body, sliding over the muscles in Dean's back, along his sides to his waist, down the curve of his ass and back up until his hand was at the back of Dean's head, lightly holding him there. Very quickly, Dean had him groaning again.

"The things you do to me," Castiel whispered to him, meeting his eyes. "I have never felt such things. I like feeling hot and sexy for you. I like kissing and the rubbing pleasures. I know there are more things humans who care for each other do. Whenever you wish to explore these things, I would like to explore them with you, if you would like to with me. I would very much like to," Castiel said, then began lightly feathering kisses on Dean's lips, his cheeks, and the corner of his mouth as his wings and hands slowly stroked his back soothingly.  


* * *

Dean decided then and there that he could definitely get used to this. The hot tongue battling his own, giving as good as he got. The warm strong hands roaming over his back, down to his ass, and then up again. The less familiar caress of soft feathers against his skin like warm sunlight. Yes, he could definitely get used to it. Again and again and...

But even if he were up for another round right now, Dean was well aware that they needed to get back. Castiel had said that Bobby would be returning to his cabin soon. The meeting finished. They probably never should have left in the first place, but Dean just hadn't been willing to deal with it then. He still wasn't, truth be told, but delaying it wasn't going to make things any better. As much as Dean might like to stay here and continue the angel's education he knew it was important for them to return. To find out what had been discussed. Considering it most likely concerned him and the angel and the... incident...

Besides, even though he'd left Bobby the note, the older man was probably still worried about him not being there. The longer they took, the more worried he'd get, and Dean just couldn't do that to Bobby. He'd probably ask what the hell they'd been up to, too, and Dean wasn't sure what to tell the older man yet. It wasn't that Dean was ashamed of what they'd done, but Bobby would probably be concerned that it was too soon, that Dean still didn't have his head on straight yet, that maybe Castiel had manipulated him, or something.

Dean gave a slight sigh as their lips parted. Why did everything have to be so damned complicated?

The young man couldn't help but smile at the angel's words when their eyes met. Well, if there was one thing he could reassure Bobby of it was that Castiel hadn't manipulated him into having sex. If anything, Dean had been the one doing the manipulating. But hearing Castiel talk about how much he'd enjoyed it, and that he wanted to do it again, more, it eased the young man's mind more than he realized.

_"Yeah. I'd like that too."_ He admitted, then closed his eyes and sighed again, this time in pleasure, at the soft kisses and gentle caresses. Well... maybe they could stay here just a little bit longer. Then Dean smiled as he came up with the perfect excuse. _"Do you want to take a shower with me?"_

* * *

Castiel could tell Dean was enjoying the kisses he was giving him. The momentary tension which had entered him at the thought of returning to camp seemed to be swept away. Dean's smile was bright and almost mischievous as he suggested the shower.

At first Castiel was going to question. He could easily clean them with a mere thought. There was no need for a shower. He was beginning to understand a little bit of the way humans thought and Dean hadn't asked to take a shower. He had asked if Castiel would like to shower with him. The significance he did not understand, but he knew what Dean appeared to be asking, that he wanted to cleanse himself, was not what Dean was actually asking. At least, Castiel suspected that was the case.

Rather than querying why Dean did not want Castiel to simply make them clean, he gave a nod and simple answer. "Yes. I believe I would like that."

Castiel concentrated a moment, made certain the cistern was full and reignited the fires beneath it to heat the water. Yes, he could easily heat the water with a mere thought but…he wanted to keep Dean here, safe, and to himself, for a little while longer.

"The water will be heated for the shower in about twenty or thirty minutes," Castiel whispered into his ear, then began to drop kisses along his jaw. 

* * *

Dean made a content sound when Castiel agreed to share a shower with him, something the young man was very much looking forward to. Hot showers really were a luxury he'd always taken for granted before, and he'd very much enjoyed the one he'd had here before. He was sure he'd enjoy it even more with his very own hot and sexy angel to share it with. Hot water. All that slippery soapy skin... wet feathers...

He snorted a little in amusement at that thought. Maybe Cas would put his wings away for that bit. Too bad. Dean really liked the angel's wings. Now that he was used to seeing them. Touching them. Feeling them brush against his bare skin, downy soft.

Damn, he wasn't developing some kind of feather kink was he?

Dean nodded when Castiel told him it would take a half hour or so for the water to heat up. And that wasn't even counting all the time they'd probably spend _in_ the shower. Bobby was going to have a cow... but at least it would give Dean plenty of time to come up with some excuse why they were gone all this time. Well, if his higher brain functions were still functional. Already the kisses Castiel was trailing along his jaw were pretty distracting.

He rested his head against the angel's shoulder with a pleasant sigh. His fingers tracing random patterns along Castiel's stomach and side. 

* * *

That Dean didn't question the time it would take for the water to heat only further confirmed to Castiel that Dean was not ready to return to the camp. In truth it would take longer than a mere half hour, but Castiel would finish heating it so they could shower. Although he continued to give Dean light kisses, he turned part of his attention to Bobby's cabin. Bobby had returned and was reading Dean's message. Castiel added a message to the slate board while Bobby watched, telling Bobby that they were back at the cabin. Dean needed time away and they would return within an hour or two and not to worry. If they would be gone overnight, he would contact Bobby again.

Bobby was mildly annoyed that the two were gone again, but glad for the message and thoroughly baffled by the balloons and the two bags of goodies Castiel had brought for Dean. He just shook his head and with a soft 'huh,' pulled out one of the magazines, poured himself a drink, and settled on the couch and began to read.

Castiel returned his full focus back to Dean and planted light kisses on his lips, enjoying the way Dean's fingers brushed over him. He debated about whether or not to tell Dean, but he feared if he didn't, Dean would grow angry with him again but if he did tell him right now, it would upset him now. He suspected this would be a no-win situation, but he decided he would rather not bring up anything to disrupt Dean's pleased emotional state.

"Are you warm enough?" Castiel asked as he tightened his wings fractionally around the man and rubbed his hand in small soothing circles in the small of Dean's back.

* * *

Dean gave a contented sigh at the feeling of Castiel's strong but gentle fingers rubbing his back and a nod in answer to the angel's question. Though he had a feeling the warmth he felt had little to do with the fire that had been started in the fireplace. More like the furnace like quality of the body beneath him, not to mention the warmth generated by the wings wrapped around him like a blanket.

He could probably very easily doze off like this. In fact it was very tempting. But Dean resisted doing so for a variety of reasons. The fact that they would have to get back to the camp sometime today actually one of his lesser concerns. The main reason, he was surprised to realize, that he wasn't ready for this to end yet. Whatever it was between them right now.

A distraction? A tryst? That just seemed so... no... it was more than that. But Dean still didn't know what to call it. Maybe it was best not to try to define it and just let it... be.

So Dean decided not to think so much and just enjoy the... well, alright he had to admit it, this part was definitely cuddling. Instead he just let his thoughts drift. Much like his fingers across the angel's skin. Lazily tracing up and down his lover's body. Sometimes brushing against the soft downy feathers closest to the angel's back.

Silent until a thought finally occurred to him and his curiosity finally got the best of him.

_"So... how come you've never done this before?"_   


* * *

The emotions coming from Dean were a strange combination of contentment, mild confusion, and maybe…longing? At times it was very difficult to untangle human emotions, emotions angels had a minimal grasp upon in the first place. Since all of the emotions were relaxed, an almost sated undertone to them, Castiel decided he didn't need to untangle them or worry about them. He could simply enjoy having Dean laying on top of him, feeling the weight of his body, the random touches, the occasional soft strokes of his feathers. It was nice, pleasant, another 'something' he would gladly have last for a long time or have recur in the future.

He knew he was most assuredly becoming too emotionally attached to the human and wondered if this might be how other angels, when God first created humans, had become mortal, to stay with humans for whom they had 'fallen' in love. The cherubs might know, but they could be annoying to try to hold a conversation with. And certainly far too emotional and full of gossip. If Castiel were to ask, they might well sense his growing feelings for Dean. Wholly inappropriate for a warrior angel.

Dean's question caught Castiel off guard and he was silent for a couple heartbeats.

"Angels rarely take vessels and when they do, it is usually for a short time for a specific task. I have only been in a human vessel a few times. Only specific bloodlines can contain an angel for any length of time, can hear us speak without it being destructive to them or see us without it blinding them. Many of these bloodlines are those mentioned in the Bible or derived from angels who became mortal."

Castiel looked into Dean's green eyes and brushed his fingers along Dean's cheekbone. "I am of the warrior choir. It has always been my job to protect Heaven, though I have been stationed on Earth for centuries, rarely permitted to act or intercede in the affairs of man. To become emotionally attached to a human permits doubt to have a foothold, and thus emotional involvement in any specific human is…frowned upon. As a whole, we are to love you and protect you. But we are not supposed to involve ourselves in individual lives. The cherubs do, of course, to bring about the emotional ties to continue to keep certain lines strong, but otherwise," he shook his head, "no. I have never done this before because…because I have never been permitted to interact with humans. I did not anticipate such interaction would stir something inside of me."

* * *

As Dean listened he couldn't deny he was a little fascinated by the way Castiel spoke of his kind. Angels. Creatures the young man knew very little about.

Sure he knew the bible well enough. Studied old Latin and quite a few old biblical texts. It was kind of 'required reading' for any hunter, especially when a hunt involved demons. At least it had been 'back in the day' when the only way to get rid of a demon was through crucifixes, holy water, and an exorcism ritual. All of which was pretty useless now.

But he'd never believed _everything_ written in those texts. In fact, he still believed most of it was bullshit. Before the world went to hell he hadn't believed in god or in angels. Not all myths had a basis in reality. Just because demons were real, didn't mean angels were. At least, so he'd thought at the time. And even after the world went to hell, the war, when he'd been locked in his cell and heard the whisperings of the demons speaking of angels joining the fight, it had still been a little hard for him to believe.

Of course he was beyond doubting now. But even those stories didn't really compare to hearing first hand knowledge and again Dean had to wonder how much of this other humans knew about angels. About special blood lines, and angels that had become human. These extremely powerful creatures that, according to Castiel, had always been there. Watching humans. At least, Castiel had.

Dean couldn't help but wonder what the hell had Castiel been _doing_ for all his time on earth? Centuries? Just watching? That had to be... Dean wasn't sure he could even imagine it. But he supposed that at least explained how Castiel could still be a virgin after a few hundred or even thousand years. He wondered if Castiel had ever gotten lonely.

His eyes focused on the angel when Castiel started talking about becoming... emotionally attached. What was Castiel saying? Emotionally attached... to him? Dean couldn't deny he'd been a bit worried about why Castiel had let him kiss him and touch him. Like maybe the angel was just doing it to keep him happy. Or maybe the angel had merely been curious after all this time. Wanting to experience something new. Was it more than that?

_"Are you trying to tell me you lo... like me?"_ Dean asked with a small smile. 

* * *

Castiel gave a soft chuckle. "Is that not what I said? I do not understand why humans require everything be stated multiple times. Yes. I am fond of you. Fond enough to wish to experience human emotions and actions with you which are typically denied to my kind. But it is because of _you_ and not simply because I am currently able to. You have affected me. You are beauti—handsome," he corrected himself then shook his head. "No, I was right the first time. You are beautiful. Your eyes, your face, your body, your spirit. When you are happy, there is no part of you that isn't beautiful. Even when you are stubborn, or angry, it is with a spark of life that is true and pure.

"You've the beauty of an angel, and a soul worthy of being one as well. But if you were an angel, and here I must admit to being selfish, if you were an angel, I could not be here now, with you. And I very much like being here with you and very much want to be here with you."

Gently, Castiel pressed his lips to Dean's, his hand sliding behind Dean's head to cup it. He pushed his tongue into Dean's mouth and kissed him slowly, exploring every part. His other hand roamed tenderly up and down Dean's back, sometimes pausing to massage muscle and other times merely brushing over his skin.

He finally paused and pulled back to look into Dean's green eyes. "How do you feel about me?"

* * *

Dean felt his cheeks warm and who could really blame him? Everything the angel said to him... it was more than a little overwhelming. It almost made him wish that he hadn't asked. Ok, so he had a feeling that Castiel liked him. He wasn't even all that surprised to hear that Castiel thought him 'beautiful' or 'handsome'. A lot of people had. A lot of demons had too, apparently, considering how often he'd been fucked.

No, it was when the angel started talking about his soul, telling him it was pure, and... yeah, that was the part Dean was having a real hard time believing. He sure as hell didn't feel pure. He felt stained. Even though Castiel had erased every physical trace of his imprisonment from his body, save for the scar across his throat, he could still feel it. Just underneath his skin. Every mark. Every touch. Every pain he'd ever experienced. It hadn't just marked his body. It had marked his soul. And those wounds he knew would never heal.

So how could Castiel possibly say...

Dean felt emotion welling up in his throat, making it a little hard for him to breathe. He didn't know what to say so it was just as well he supposed when Castiel kissed him. Not that he couldn't "talk" while the angel kissed him but at least it gave him an excuse not to. At least the gentle kiss and tender touches along his skin helped to calm the storm of emotions inside of him so he wouldn't start bawling like a little girl or something.

Castiel pulled away far too soon for Dean's liking, then the angel's question took him a bit by surprise even though he probably should have expected it. After all, Dean was the one who'd stupidly brought it up when he wasn't ready to really deal with it. How he felt about the angel... he hadn't even begun to examine his feelings. Everything was so complicated. He liked Castiel. He trusted him against all odds. He felt... safe... with him.

_"I..."_ He didn't know what to say. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt the angel. But Dean didn't want to lie to him either. _"I don't know."_  


* * *

He could see Dean would rather keep kissing than have a conversation, which made the angel smile just a little. He could also feel the human's embarrassment at the compliments. Dean felt so unworthy and he shouldn't. It was frustrating to sense how valueless the man felt about himself. Castiel would try to change that, he vowed. Then after he had asked his question, he felt almost a sense of panic in Dean, or maybe strong confusion or desire not to address it. Dean started to speak, then stopped, concern washing over his face. Finally Dean answered.

Dean didn't know. That surprised Castiel. "I thought…I thought it was merely my inexperience with emotions that prevented me from sorting out 'feelings.' I did not realize that humans could also be uncertain of what they felt."

He ran his fingers through Dean's hair. "It is okay that you do not know how you feel about me. It is important that you understand it is always your choice, what we do. I want you to always be comfortable with me, and never fear saying 'no.' You also must understand…there will come a time when I am needed elsewhere, when I will be ordered away. I may or may not be able to return to visit. Jimmy, this vessel, may or may not be needed for my next assignment. He may decide to join his family, or he may decide to fight again on his own. If he is not available…you could not withstand being in my presence for more than a brief moment of time." Running his hand soothingly down Dean's back, marveling at how it made him feel, he stared into Dean's beautiful green eyes. "What I am attempting to say is that the time we have together is limited and I do not wish to cause you pain when I am required to leave. If you believe this…togetherness will hurt you when I leave…then tell me and I will…reluctantly…cease."

* * *

Dean waited, practically holding his breath in uncertainty and fear of how the angel might react. Would he be upset? Angry? After saying all those things to him, and Dean couldn't even... But when Castiel finally did answer, Dean couldn't help but blink in surprise, then he felt the insane urge to laugh. He wondered if he should tell Castiel that humans were probably unsure of their feelings about ninety-nine percent of the time.

But his hilarity at the situation died down pretty quickly as Castiel continued to speak and Dean wondered if the angel understood humans a little better than he realized. He liked Castiel. A lot. He trusted him. Felt safe with him. It wasn't really a lack of choice that had Dean afraid to define how he felt about the angel. But when Castiel started talking about how he might have to leave one day, Dean felt the same stab of fear shoot through him as he had when Castiel asked him how he felt. Was that what Dean was really afraid of? Caring about the angel, and then Castiel leaving him?

As though everything wasn't a tangled mess already inside of him, Castiel started talking about Jimmy, the guy who the angel was possessing, how the fuck had he forgotten about that? That this body didn't really belong to the angel. Was the guy inside even aware of what the hell was going on? What if he was? What if he wasn't? Did that make it better or worse?

Dean closed his eyes, feeling a little sick to his stomach. Tears burned behind his eyelids and his throat felt tight. This was wrong. Everything Castiel said just confirmed how wrong this was between them, on so many different levels. Hurt him? Right now that seemed like a bit of an understatement. Considering what just talking about it was doing to him. Maybe Castiel was right. Maybe they should... stop this before it went any further. There was no way it could end good. No way...

_"You're probably right."_ Fuck. That hurt to say. 

* * *

Castiel tilted his head as he watched the cascade of emotions pass across Dean's face. Concern. Surprise. Amusement. Fear. Sadness. Upset. And then Dean closed his eyes and though no tears slipped free, he could see the slight glistening that suggested they were there. He paled and seemed only to grow more upset.

The words were barely thought to Castiel by Dean when Castiel captured Dean's lips in a fiery kiss. When he finally had to let Dean breathe, he shook his head. "I would rather not be right. I do not want to stop. To soothe your mind, Jimmy is aware of my interest in you and does not mind that I am pursuing that interest. When orders take me elsewhere, I will find a way to visit you. Often. I will protect you, cherish you, always. I will find a way to make that promise be true." He planted light kisses on Dean's lips, speaking in between each kiss. "You do not need…to answer now. Think on it…as long as you wish…but for now…The water is hot….You asked me to shower…with you. I would like that."

After a bit more kissing he pulled back and gazed hopefully into Dean's eyes. "Dean, I would like you to shower with me." He didn't grasp exactly why Dean had wanted to shower with him, but he assumed it had something to do with relationship rituals, and he hoped that with said shower, Dean's upset might be washed away. He did not like it when Dean was hurt or upset, and he especially didn't like it if he thought he might be the cause of tears or pain. That wasn't who he wanted to be for Dean.

* * *

The intensity which Castiel suddenly kissed him with was a bit of a shock to Dean, but it successfully halted the downward spiral of his thoughts and emotions. It was simply impossible to think of anything else other than how good the angel's lips felt caressing his own. It was impossible to feel anything other than that slick hot tongue tangling with his own and exploring every inch of his mouth. Even when his lungs began to burn a little from lack of air, Dean still didn't want that kiss to end. He gasped a little when his lips were finally released, his eyes a little bit glazed when he opened them to stare at the angel, and who could really blame him.

When his brain finally started working again, his emotions were back in check enough to feel extremely embarrassed about all of this. Becoming so over emotional, practically on the verge of tears. Christ, he was acting like a giant emo girl. Something he might have accused his brother of being back in another life. This was why it was better not to think too much. Thinking too much only hurt. He should have learned that lesson by now. It was one of the only ways he'd survived so long as a prisoner, after all. Not thinking about the past or the future. The 'now' was always less painful than either.

It did ease his mind a little bit to know that Jimmy didn't mind, according to Castiel, what they were doing. That Dean hadn't... forced himself on some guy who couldn't even protest what was happening to him. Kind of what Sam had done to him. Dean remembered well how it had felt to be trapped inside of his own mind, aware of what was going on, being forced to participate, enjoy it even... it had been worse than every other time Sam had raped and tortured him. Dean could never forgive himself for doing that to someone else. Though he couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if Jimmy _hadn't_ approved of what they were doing, if he had protested, would Castiel have still let him...

Dean decided to squash that thought ruthlessly. It would only drive him insane. Though it was kind of weird of Jimmy being there as kind of a threesome or voyeur between him and Castiel it was a lot better to the alternative. Hell, it probably wouldn't even happen again, so what was the point worrying about it?

The young man smiled a little at the soft kisses when the angel went on, promising if was ordered elsewhere that he would return. Something just a few seconds ago he couldn't promise. Maybe it was a lie, or at least a promise the angel couldn't possibly keep even if he wanted to, but just knowing the angel cared enough for him to make that lie... It might not ease his mind but it did warm his heart. Yes, it would still hurt when Castiel left him someday. But he supposed having something to hope for wasn't all that bad.

Dean wasn't sure if he'd think about it later or not, considering where thinking too much always got him. But he wasn't going to think about it any more now. Live in the moment, right? A shower still sounded pretty damned good right now, so Dean nodded in agreement. Almost laughing the way Castiel offered it, like he was proposing to him or something.

_"Yeah. Before we end up glued together."_ Dean said, kissing the angel again before he started to pull away. He stood up and held his hand out to the angel. 


	7. Chapter 7

The slightest bit of a smile that he pulled from Dean pleased Castiel almost beyond measure. He didn't pretend to understand his own reactions and why he wanted so desperately to see Dean happy. He didn't understand how the slightest upward curve of Dean's lips made his heart beat faster, or the fire that filled him when they kissed.  


  
Jimmy snorted softly. _You're in love. That's what happens when you're in love. They're your everything. Every breath they take is a breath you take. Every one of their joys is your own joy. Without them, the world ceases to be. When you lose them…you just want to die._

_You will have eternity with your wife and daughter, I promise you,_ Castiel said, understanding a little better why Jimmy had said yes to letting Castiel use him as a vessel. He also understood somewhat better why Jimmy might want Castiel to take him home, his true home, in Heaven, to be with his loved ones.

If there could be a smile heard in thoughts, he heard it in Jimmy's. _You're an angel in love with a human. Take what time you want with him. Embrace it. Embrace him. Be happy. A few more weeks or months or even years won't change anything for me. It might change something for you though. I'm content to wait. And willing to try to keep you from making a complete fool of yourself in front of Dean._

_I will gladly listen to your council with regards to Dean,_ Castiel said. He wanted to protest Jimmy's words. Angels could not love the way Jimmy was suggesting. They did not have the ability to feel romantic love.

_Bullshit…_ Jimmy murmured.

Castiel gave him something of a glare and decided he would be better off to shift his thoughts away from such things. Dean had indicated he wanted a shower and now stood and held his hand out to Castiel. Castiel smiled and took it. He decided silence might be good as he believed he often talked too much and about things Dean either didn't understand or had no interest in.

Letting Dean guide him to the shower, he watched the way Dean moved, the way his skin glistened, and his hair seemed to spike in all directions. He couldn't seem to get enough of watching those simple fluid movements.

When they reached the shower, Castiel retrieved fresh towels for them, and washcloths. The soap and shampoo were still out. He watched as Dean turned on the water and let the cold water run out of the pipes, then adjusted it and steam began to curl from streams of water.

"I have never showered before. What do I do?" he asked Dean, his gaze suddenly fixated on the droplets of water streaming down Dean's chest. He couldn't help himself and reached out, gently running his hand over the man's muscular chest.  


* * *

Dean could practically feel Castiel's eyes on him all the way to the shower, like a warm caring caress across his flesh making his skin feel slightly feverish. Hell, maybe it _was_ a caress. Everything else he had seen the angel do, touching him without touching him sure didn't seem all that far fetched. _Oh the possibilities_ , the young man couldn't help but grin to himself. If they got through the shower without going through a third round Dean would be really surprised.

The young man glanced over his shoulder at the angel getting the towels and things ready while Dean got the shower running. The wings were gone now, probably a good thing since there wasn't much space in the shower and wet feathers probably weren't that attractive anyway. Dean snorted softly to himself at the mental image of the angel coming out of the shower looking kind of like a drowned cat, all droopy. Not a very awe inspiring image.

Castiel was back to looking like a regular guy right now. He _was_ just a regular guy, or at least, the body he was in was. Dean would never forget that again. But at the same time when he looked at him he didn't see a regular guy. Dean tried to imagine him as a regular guy and couldn't. He tried to imagine the angel inside of another body and it was even stranger.

Sure it wasn't what Castiel looked like on the outside that had drawn Dean in. Considering Dean had never really been into guys before. But it was still hard to imagine the angel looking different than he did now. Inside another guy, or hell, even a women. He'd probably make himself crazy... ok crazier... thinking about it. He hoped it wasn't incredibly selfish of him to think of Castiel, like this, as just Castiel. And not Castiel and Jimmy. Castiel had said Jimmy didn't mind them being together, using his body in ways he probably hadn't counted on when he'd given the angel permission to ride in it. But if Dean constantly had to worry about if this was something Jimmy would or wouldn't mind doing it would just drive Dean nuts.

That didn't mean he probably wouldn't keep thinking about it, worrying about it, and everything else they'd talked about later. But for right now Dean just wanted to forget. To enjoy this time with the angel while it lasted.

The hot water cascading down his skin pulled a pleasant sigh from the young man and went a long way to relaxing him. He really missed having hot showers on a regular basis. He wondered if it would be incredibly selfish of him to ask Castiel to bring him back here often just for the shower. Just for the shower? Ok maybe not just...

Dean turned to look at the angel at Castiel's question and found the other man's eyes glued to his chest and he couldn't help but laugh softly. Yeah, they weren't getting out of here without at least another hand job. He wasn't sure just what fascinated the angel so much watching the water running down his bare chest, but he stood still smiling as the angel reached out to touch him. To follow the wet trails down his skin with his fingertips, making Dean's body warm even more and remind him how sensitive his skin still was.

_"I'll show you. Stand here. Get your skin and hair wet."_ Dean told the angel, taking the man's other hand and tugging him to stand under the water with him. _"A hot shower is probably one of the greatest inventions man ever made."_  


* * *

Castiel stayed focused on the rivulets of water cascading down Dean's chest. He liked the feel of Dean's wet skin, and he liked the way the steam curled around them both. Not fighting it, Castiel let Dean pull him under the falling water. It was something of a strange sensation. With a thought he could keep the water from striking his skin, but he didn't. He let the droplets hit him and he could only compare it to when in angelic form feeling the fiery rains of God's retributions long ago. Those rains of fire didn't hurt him as an angel, but he could feel the heat on his body. Like now.

The water running down his face and into his eyes was mildly annoying, but if humans liked it, he would try. Otherwise, he liked the warm fluids drenching his skin. "I have heard it said recreational sex was the greatest invention of humans, though pencils often rank high as do knives and clothing among those things named as such. Angels do not invent things, though we can be creative."

Dean was staring at him and he wasn't sure if Dean was amused or exasperated by him. He fell silent and watched as Dean placed the soap in a wash cloth and created a lather that smelled fresh and good. "Should I be doing the same?" he asked, glancing around to see where the second washcloth was.

* * *

Dean watched Castiel's face closely, not quite sure what the angel's reaction might be to the whole shower experience. With no small amount of amusement Dean noticed that the angel seemed far more interested in him than the shower itself. He supposed he should be flattered by that. But otherwise he couldn't really tell if the angel liked it or not. He seemed mostly confused, or maybe annoyed, as he blinked water out of his eyes.

Then Castiel's comment regarding the invention of recreational sex made Dean raise an eyebrow. Was the angel making fun of him? Or trying to make a joke? Or was he being serious? Sometimes it was hard to tell. A smile started tugging at Dean's lips. It seemed the angel was being completely serious which somehow only made it funnier.

Dean chuckled as he reached for one of the wash cloths and started to soap it up. He smiled at the angel's question and shook his head.

_"You can just stand there and look sexy for now."_ Dean replied as he took the soapy rag and started running it across the angel's skin. Starting at his shoulders and slowly moving his way down the other man's chest and stomach. Watching as the trails of suds and water produced enticing patterns along the firm muscles, which Dean's other hand traced across as he worked.

He cleaned away the evidence of their earlier love making from the angel's stomach, and looked up at his lover's face through his lashes as the soapy rag moved lower. Slowly and thoroughly Dean ran the rag over the angel's groin, washing his balls and cock. Probably spending much more time there than he really needed to before moving on to the angel's inner thighs. Having to kneel to continue downward along the strong legs and calves.

Kneeling there in front of the angel, his sex so close to his face, Dean couldn't help but wonder how Castiel might react if he took his cock in his mouth. Given the angel's reaction to just some masturbation and dry humping against each other the poor guy's brain might short circuit. Castiel probably wasn't ready for anything like that. Neither was Dean for that matter. What they'd already done was a huge step already. But... maybe... one day.

Smiling up at the angel Dean got back to his feet and made a motion to indicate Castiel should turn around.

_"Lemme get your back. Then you can do me."_

* * *

"I look sexy standing here?" Castiel asked, uncertain if Dean was serious or not. "I feel rather like a…drowned cat," he murmured, wiping away at some of the water running into his eyes.

If Jimmy could have, he'd have rolled his eyes. The angel was almost hopeless. _He's complimenting you. You should say something sexy back to him._

_What should I…_ Castiel's thoughts faded to nothing as Dean ran the washcloth over his cock. Slowly. Thoroughly. All he could seem to do was stand there and stare at Dean and enjoy the sensations the man brought out in him. Then he saw Dean drop down to his knees.

_Oh, you're going to like this,"_ Jimmy said confidently as Dean began to wash his inner thighs.

_What? I enjoyed what he was doing before._

Jimmy waited, ready to laugh at Castiel's reaction when Dean started giving him a blow job, but the blow job never happened. Admittedly, Jimmy was a little disappointed. It would have been more than a little entertaining. _Nevermind. Guess he's not going to do it,_ Jimmy told Castiel as the angel still seemed to be waiting for an answer from him.

At Dean's request, Castiel gave him his back. "I will gladly do you," he agreed then after a pause asked, "Were you…considering doing more?" The angel wondered what Jimmy had expected. "You are welcome to, if you would like," he said, then added, "I enjoyed the focused attention of the washcloth. That was…pleasurable."

Suddenly Castiel's breath caught as Dean ran the soapy washcloth over the exact right area between his shoulder blades. His hand shot out to the wall in front of him to make sure he kept his feet as he felt his knees go weak and a soft moan slipped from between his lips.

* * *

Dean snorted softly, unable to help himself when he realized how 'wrong' his words had sounded when Castiel replied that he would gladly 'do' him. If only Castiel knew how naughty that sounded. Then the angel surprised him by asking him if he'd been thinking about doing more. How did he know? The angel said he'd never done anything like this before, and yet Castiel constantly surprised him by how much he seemed to know.

Then again, the angel had been watching humans on earth for thousands of years. Just because he hadn't done this didn't mean he hadn't... well... seen it or heard about it. Hell, the angel had probably seen stuff that Dean didn't even want to imagine. Like weird kinky shit... no, best not to go there.

His thoughts were brought up short a little by Castiel's unexpected reaction when Dean ran the soapy cloth along his back. It startled Dean a little, to be honest, his eyes widening in surprise, and worried he'd hurt the angel somehow the way he jerked so suddenly. But then realization dawned, and Dean smiled remembering how the angel had reacted when he'd run his fingers along his wings in this spot.

Well, maybe he couldn't give the angel a blow job yet, but he could give him this. So Dean ran the rag over the spot again, and again, as he continued to wash the angel's back. Not really focusing exclusively on the spot but always returning to it. Sometimes with just the rag and sometimes letting his fingers ghost along the sensitive skin. He washed from the angel's shoulders down to the curve of his ass and the back of his thighs then back up.

Once he was finished he let the water rinse the suds away finally and Dean set aside the rag. His hands came to rest on the angel's back, his fingers caressing lightly at first and then starting an almost massage. Dean kissed the back of the angel's neck and then smiled almost wickedly, glad the angel couldn't see it, as he started pressing soft kisses down Castiel's spine. His tongue finally darting out when he reached the area that made the angel go weak in the knees. 

* * *

It was more than obvious that Dean enjoyed making Castiel pant or moan or squirm as Dean focused a good deal of attention on "that spot" on Castiel's back where his wings were. He kept them hidden but it took great effort, because he wanted nothing more than to feel Dean's hands on them again. Even though he thought he was prepared and he deluded himself that he was, every time Dean returned his focus to that magical spot, Castiel couldn't help but react.

"Feels…amazing," Castiel whispered, feeling his cock stiffening and his balls growing ever heavier with every gentle soap slickened touch. Disappointment reared its head when he saw Dean set aside the rag and he felt the cascade of water rinsing away the fresh-smelling suds.

Preparing to pick up the rag Dean had set aside, any thought of movement ceased when Dean began to run his fingers over his back. When his fingers dug in deeper, Castiel groaned louder. Good…that felt so good. He smiled slightly feeling warm lips press against his neck. He let Dean shift him some so Dean wasn't getting a faceful of water, then Dean started working his way down the center of Castiel's back. When he felt Dean's tongue twirl around that spot, he cried out loudly, his knees grew soft, and despite his best efforts, his wings materialized. The hot water seemed to leave the feathers untouched, as if they weren't there or the water just rolled off of them. Castiel had to put both hands on the wall in front of him and his slowly hardening cock sprung to sharp attention as the sudden rush of blood made it stiffen and throb.

* * *

Castiel's reaction was certainly satisfying, if a bit surprising, when the sudden appearance of the wings made Dean jump back a bit in shock. He recovered quickly however and chuckled softly. Leaning in to nuzzle the back of the angel's neck he teased, _"A little warning next time, huh? I almost ended up with a mouth full of feathers."_

He supposed he shouldn't be all that surprised that the water seemed to have no effect on the glowing feathers. The water passing through them like they were made of air, however making his skin tingle as he ran his fingers through them. The feeling growing more intense as he caressed over the powerful muscles and tendons following the wings down to where they met the angel's back.

Dean felt a shudder pass through Castiel's body as he caressed the angel's back, then the wings, then his back again and couldn't help but marvel how such a powerful creature could also seem so vulnerable right now. One of his hands slipped down the angel's back and around, not surprised to find Castiel thick, hard, and hot as he wrapped his fingers around the angel's shaft. 

* * *

"Unexpected tonguing and attention to that area of my back can bring my wings forth," Castiel got out between gasps. "If you warn me, then I can warn you. If you don't…ungh…then the outcome will be a mouth full of feathers."

Every stroke and touch by Dean's gentle hands was ratcheting Castiel's need higher. Feeling his hands on his wings was exactly what he wanted and he could feel the electricity softly crackling. When Dean's hand grasped his hard member, Castiel's head fell back onto Dean's shoulder and he groaned loudly.

"I like…the stroking pleasure," Castiel said, his wings swaying, glowing, and softly crackling and humming with electricity. "I wish you too had wings so you could understand what you are doing to me, how you are making me feel." Twisting his head, he brushed his lips over Dean's. "Jimmy says I am in love with you. I disagree. Angels cannot feel that but…but you make me feel as I have never felt before."

Reaching back, he wrapped his arms around Dean's waist, caressing the flesh there even as he rubbed his ass back against Dean's groin.

* * *

  
_"I'll keep that in mind."_ Dean replied, laughing, at the angel's teasing. It was probably a good thing he _hadn't_ decided to give Castiel a blow job. Dean might be missing a few teeth now or something if he had. Though in all honesty, he rather enjoyed surprising the angel a little, that look of wonder Castiel got on his face whenever he showed him something new. So he'd just have to be careful in the future...

Then Dean suddenly remembered, there might not even be a 'future' after they leave the cabin. This might be the last time.

The sudden ache in his chest was only made more intense when the angel went on to tell him what... Jimmy... said. Dean found himself blinking away wetness in his eyes he wasn't sure was from the shower or emotion. Castiel was probably right. Jimmy was probably wrong. The angel barely knew him. Cas probably didn't even understand human love, and might not even be able to feel it if he did understand it.

No, Castiel didn't love him. And he didn't love Castiel. But that didn't mean he didn't care about the angel. A lot. That didn't mean Dean wouldn't miss him when the angel's time guarding him was over. He would miss this...

_"You asked me how I feel about you. I care about you. I trust you. I feel... safe... with you."_ Dean told the angel as he kissed and sucked on the side of Castiel's neck. Groaning as he felt the angel's ass rubbing against his cock. His flesh stiffening thanks to the delicious friction and he rocked his hips forward. He stroked the angel's cock faster. _"You make me feel... you make me forget how much it hurts."_

* * *

That he had once again brought a laugh to Dean made Castiel smile though he could sense Dean was saddened by something that was only compounded when he told Dean what Jimmy said.

Castiel let his eyes close as Dean sucked on his neck. "I am glad you care about me, trust me, and that I make you feel safe. In my presence, I promise you will always be safe."

When Dean said Castiel made him forget how much it hurt, Castiel pondered this, even as Dean continued to stroke and tease him. There were many offers he could give to Dean. He could make Dean forget the tortures he endured. He could make him find the peace of faith, where the memories weren't dwelled upon. He could take Dean…home. Take him to his place in Heaven until and if the arch-angels decided they had need of Dean. Perhaps taking him to Heaven, to his parents, might bring him some happiness.

"I want you to forget how much it hurts. Anything I can do to remove that pain from your heart and mind, you need only ask. Anything within my power and I am at your service." Twisting his head, he captured Dean's lips and kissed him hard as he thrust in the warm slick channel that Dean's hand made for him. "I will do nothing without your permission though. That I also promise," Castiel said.

Jimmy told him to thrust back against Dean, and so he did, trying to keep a steady rhythm and give Dean pressure to his stiffening cock. "You make me feel special," Castiel admitted. "And that is no simple task for what could be more special than being an angel? Apparently, having a human care about you is the answer."

* * *

Always be safe... Dean smiled wistfully at the promise even though, like Castiel's promises he would find a way to return if he had to leave, it was a promise he wasn't sure the angel could keep even if he wanted to. Still, Dean chose to believe it anyway for now. Believing the lie was often easier than believing the truth.

_"You do enough now. More than enough."_ Dean told the angel, sucking a little harder on Castiel's neck. One good thing about this whole pray/speaking thing was that he didn't have to stop what he was doing to have a conversation with the angel. Though that didn't mean other things weren't making it a bit difficult to concentrate on the discussion they were having. Like the way the angel's ass rubbed against his cock as Castiel began to thrust back against him and then into his hand.

His hardening shaft fit nicely between the firm cheeks of the angel's ass and Dean moaned deeply as he rubbed between them harder. For an insane moment he wondered what it would be like to actually fuck the angel. To press the angel against the wall, stretch him open with his fingers, and then impale him with his cock. It would probably be amazing, better than amazing, but... no...

Even forgetting all the bad memories it would probably dredge up inside of him, he couldn't do that to the angel. Even if Jimmy had given his permission, or whatever, that they could do this, use his body this way, that was just too... invasive. Some kissing, licking, touching, and rubbing was one thing. But that... no, Dean just couldn't do it, he'd never forgive himself.

_"You are special."_ Dean confirmed with a smile, running his fingers along Castiel's wings and back, rubbing that spot between the angel's wings and shoulder blades that he liked so much. He might not know much about other angels, he hadn't met any others, but he'd heard plenty from both Bobby and Castiel. Castiel wasn't like others of his kind. He genuinely cared for humans. He genuinely cared for him... even though he didn't really understand why Castiel cared so much about him.

_"I'm glad they sent you."_   


* * *

Castiel didn't begin to feel like he was doing enough for Dean. If he was doing enough, then wouldn't Dean no longer hurt? He heard Jimmy soft laugh in his mind.

_It's not that easy Castiel. Not for humans. Humans need time. They don't have leaders to obey without question, they don't have orders that come from God that allow them to put out of their mind other things and simply move on. Our lives are compressed, a blink of an eye to you. We feel things…we miss the ones we love._

_But I have told you,_ Castiel argued, _I will take you to them when this is done._

_That changes nothing,_ Jimmy told him with a sigh. _I still miss them._ Jimmy smiled some then when he felt the way Dean was thrusting against Castiel. _I think your lover wants to have intercourse with you. Ask him to 'fuck' you. I'm going to just…go deep. Have fun. Call me when it's over and you're dressed._

Castiel wanted to ask him how he knew, and what he should do to encourage Dean, but Jimmy was already submerged in old memories. Castiel was about to say more to Dean when Dean confirmed he was special. A warmth he couldn't explain filled him. He moaned softly at the way Dean touched him and smiled when Dean said he was glad Castiel was there.

"I too am glad," Castiel said. He tried harder to rub against Dean and could feel the heat building between them. "Jimmy…Jimmy is gone for now. He said…he said I should ask you to 'fuck' me, and that you would like to have intercourse with me. Would you like to do this? I have seen people…they seem to enjoy it. They seem very happy when it is done."

Castiel turned his head, his brilliant blue eyes focused on the handsome human. "I would like for this to happen…if you would?" he asked, his voice tinged with hope.

* * *

Dean felt heat rise to his cheeks when Castiel told him that Jimmy was 'gone for now' pretty much confirming the young man's suspicions that the man inside the angel had been listening in, watching, or whatever, this whole time. He couldn't help but wonder just how much the man had seen and/or felt. If he was... enjoying the show. Dean supposed he shouldn't feel disturbed by the idea. Considering they _were_ using the guy's body for things that... weren't exactly in the job description. He felt his face burn even hotter when Castiel told him what Jimmy had... suggested... Apparently the guy had been giving the angel pointers as well. Maybe that's why Castiel seemed to know much more than Dean had thought he would.

Dean's embarrassment was rather short lived however when Castiel went on to ask him if he wanted to do... what Jimmy suggested. The young man blinked in surprise and when the angel turned to look at him the hopeful look in those bright blue eyes practically knocked the air from his lungs. He was serious. He really... wanted that... from him.

And apparently Jimmy didn't mind, considering he'd suggested it to the angel to make the offer. Even 'went away' or something to give them some privacy for it. Talk about going above and beyond the call of duty. It went along way to alleviate Dean's lingering feelings of guilt for doing this with the angel, but...

He didn't know if he could do it. His heart beating so fast and hard with excitement said he could. The spike of lust that had made his cock grow even harder at the thought of his brief fantasy becoming reality certainly said it was up to the task. The way Castiel's eyes and voice were so hopeful as he asked for it proving that the angel really wanted it... but he still didn't know if he could.

Dean swallowed hard and finally gave a faint nod.

_"I'll... try."_ Dean told the angel, wondering if his nervousness came though his mental 'voice'. He gave Castiel a slight smile before capturing the angel's lips in a heated kiss to let the other man know he did want this. Even if he was still unsure, mostly of himself, and afraid he might have some kind of a panic attack. Was it too soon? Was this a mistake? Well, if he was so worried about freaking out on the angel it probably was. But then again, he'd never know unless he tried. And he wanted to try... with Castiel.

Dean slowed his strokes on the angel's cock, using just enough stimulation to keep the other man hard without allowing him to come. He caressed that special place on the angel's back a few more times before he allowed his hand to slip lower. Reluctantly Dean stepped back to give himself more room to work. Following the angel's spine to the swell of his ass. He gently rubbed and squeezed one firm cheek and then the other. Inching closer and closer, until finally he delved between them. His fingers found the tightly clenched hole and his breath hitched in his throat. He rubbed across it, teasing around it, feeling it clench and flutter a little under his touch, while he continued to stroke the angel's cock gently. Not pushing inside. Not yet. Waiting for his pounding heartbeat to slow a little.

Damn it, he wished they had some kind of actual lube for this. He hoped the soap would be enough. Dean didn't want to hurt the angel. He reached for the soap and started to lather up as much soap onto his fingers as he could. When he was satisfied he let his fingers return to that intimate place, running his fingers around the puckered entrance until it was slick with soap.

_"If it hurts, tell me. I don't want to hurt you."_ Dean practically begged, then began to ease one of his fingers slowly inside the angel. Practically holding his breath as he did so. 

* * *

He could sense the shock and turmoil inside of Dean and wondered if he shouldn't have said such things to Dean. But Jimmy surely knew if Dean wanted to or not and he had said Dean did. The way Dean's cheeks colored, that was often a sign of desiring something from someone but being too afraid to ask for it. Too…embarrassed. Still, Dean's heart was racing and his hard cock strongly implied Dean was very interested. So why only a small smile? Why did he say he would try rather than that he wanted to? He wished Jimmy had stayed longer to help him decipher Dean's conflicting responses.

Castiel was about to ask Dean about it when Dean kissed him. The kiss certainly suggested Dean was quite interested in doing more. With Dean slowing down the stroking pleasure, Castiel felt a sort of pleasure-pain, wanting to move faster, but reluctantly following Dean's lead. Of course Dean knew his weakness: a few strokes between his shoulder blades, between his wings, and Castiel felt more like a jellyfish in the ocean than a man or angel.

And then Dean's hand moved lower. So many different feeling coming at him at once. The tightness of the skin on his cock. The way his balls were so heavy. The wet heat of Dean's stroking hand. The way Dean rubbed between and along his wings, the way he squeezed his ass cheeks and then…It was all Castiel could do not to jump at the strange feelings generated by Dean's fingers running over his hole, playing and toying with it.

Strange…not unpleasant…sensitive. He missed the feeling of Dean's touch as soon as they left that area. He watched as Dean turned the soap over and over in his palm, working up a bounty of suds before setting the soap aside.

"You cannot hurt me," Castiel assured him. "You can…and have…surprised and startled me because this is all new to me but do not fear damaging me. And Dean do only what…" Castiel's words sort of faded out as he felt Dean's finger slip inside his hole, understanding what the soap was needed for now.

"Oh…" Castiel breathed out, his swaying wings freezing in place. "That is…different," Castiel said, having no clue how to express the strange new sensations assaulting him. He relaxed that tight ring of muscle and felt Dean's finger work in deeper and suddenly brush across something inside him that made his knees as weak as when Dean was playing with his wings.

"Would it…would it be selfish…to say…I wish you had…four arms? That way you could do," Castiel gave a small gasp, "yes, that, give me the stroking pleasure, and rub my wings all at the same time."

* * *

It did ease Dean's mind more than a little when the angel reminded him that he _couldn't_ really hurt him. Castiel was an angel for god sake. Dean knew angels weren't indestructible but they were pretty damned close. There was probably very little Dean could do, being only a man, that would physically harm the angel.

But Dean still wanted it to be good for him. Sure, he knew the theory behind it having sex with a man but he'd never done it with a guy before the demons took over. And after... he'd been fucked plenty of times, for sure, but he'd never been touched with the slightest intention of being given pleasure before... before Sam...

Dean closed his eyes tightly, pressing his forehead against the angel's shoulder, as he tried to force away those memories. Trying to focus on what was happening here and now, between him and Castiel, and not before.

He went slowly, even though he knew the angel was far from made of glass, he needed to go slow. A small smile curved the young man's lips when Castiel's words trailed off. Dean felt the hot muscles inside tighten and then relax around his invading finger and he took it as permission to push deeper. It wasn't all that hard to find that special place inside and rub across it. The angel's unexpected words pulling a surprised laugh from him.

_"I'll take that as a compliment."_ Dean told the angel, pressing soft kisses to Castiel's neck below his ear. He started to carefully thrust his finger in and out of his lover's body. Castiel's words and obvious enjoyment the took in what he was doing going a long way to relieving his nervousness. He allowed himself to enjoy it. Feeling how hot and tight the angel was inside, imagining that heat and tightness around his cock.

He carefully pushed in a second finger along side the first, rubbing that sweet spot inside the angel with every slow deep thrust of his fingers. Scissoring gently. Stretching the tight muscles carefully. His other hand doing its best to be everywhere at once, like Castiel wanted. Caressing his cock, reaching lower to fondle his balls, moving up along the firm stomach and chest to lightly pinch and tease his lover's nipples, then around to caress his back, his wings as far as he could reach.

It wasn't long before he was adding a third finger, thrusting them a little faster, a little deeper, into his lover's body. When Castiel started pushing back against them Dean took that as a sign he was ready and reluctantly withdrew his fingers. Reaching for the soap again, he lathered up his hand one more time and then spread the slippery suds over his aching cock. He positioned the head pressed against his lover's tight entrance but he didn't push inside yet. Dean pressed several kisses to the angel's neck and the side of his jaw, silently urging Castiel to look at him.

_"Are you ready? Are you sure?"_

* * *

"A compliment…yes," Castiel agreed, while trying to keep his wits about him as Dean's finger pushed in and pulled out, giving him pleasure. He felt the added finger and the way Dean was gently trying to stretch the ring of muscle. Castiel almost offered to simply relax the muscle, it would be simple enough, however humans couldn't necessarily do that and he wanted to experience this as a human. So he kept his offer to himself and simply absorbed the strange thrumming sensations that shot through him, that made his body hum with anticipation, and brought forth small gasps and groans and…embarrassingly…mewls of pleasure. Angels just didn't make that sound…but he was.

Dean's other hand seemed to be everywhere, almost as if he had supernatural speed and before one area stopped tingling and burning from his touch, Dean's hand was elsewhere, titillating another sensitive spot. It was wonderful on every level.

When a third finger slipped into his hole, Castiel could definitely feel the muscle being stretched, and forced himself to let things happen naturally. It was strange feeling the pressure, the rubbing and the stretching. He had a better understanding now, he thought, of 'intimate.' It was intimate, what Dean was doing to him. Dean's fingers slipped in and out faster and soon, Castiel found his hips wanted to rock, he wanted to push back on those fingers, he wanted them deeper inside him. He didn't really know _why_ but assumed the body knew what it wanted and thus he listened, pushing back, soft moans escaping him.

When Dean removed his fingers Castiel stopped moving. Had he done something wrong? Perhaps he wasn't supposed to move like that. Had he offended Dean? Maybe Dean wasn't enjoying this. Maybe he wished Castiel was giving him such pleasure. He bit his lower lip and waited, seeing that Dean was soaping his hand again. Perhaps…perhaps he just need more soap and then they would continue? He hoped so. His cock ached, his nipples throbbed, his wings trembled, and his whole body seemed to be smoldering with desire for Dean to continue.

Then he felt it. Dean's cock pressed against his hole. He tilted his head as Dean kissed his neck several times, working his way up to Castiel's jaw. Slowly Castiel turned his head. He liked kissing Dean and sensed Dean wanted to kiss him. Dean's question surprised him. "Having never done this before I can only assume I am ready. Am I sure? Sure that I want this with you? I do. Want this. With you." He met Dean's gaze. "But only if you want the same. I do not want you doing something you do not wish to do. So if you wish it…kiss me and push in. If not…kiss me and then…then we will stop if you wish."

* * *

Dean's heart was beating hard and fast in his chest. He was nervous. In spite of Castiel's reassurances that Dean could not possibly hurt him, he was still worried. What if he did it wrong and disappointed the angel? What if Castiel changed his mind? What if he did somehow hurt him? Maybe not physically, but psychologically or something? What if the angel hated him when it was over?

He knew he was being stupid. Overreacting. Castiel said he wanted this. With him. More than once. He'd told the angel he trusted him. He should at least trust Castiel to know what he wanted. If the angel didn't want this, he could have told him no, could have stopped him, at any time. He was an _angel_ for Christ sake. Maybe a little ignorant about some things, but far from helpless.

Did he want this? ...Yes.

So Dean kissed the angel and started to push inside. The virgin ring of muscles resisting his intrusion for only a brief moment before the head of his cock pushed past them inside. Dean gasped sharply into the kiss. It had been so long since he'd felt anything... like this. It was different of course than entering a woman's body, but the intense heat, the pressure around his throbbing flesh, the intimacy of being inside, joined this way, with another...

His fingers tightened where they rested on Castiel's hip. He wasn't sure if he was holding the angel steady or himself. He didn't move at all for what felt like a long time. Waiting for the intensity of the feelings surging through him to ease just a little. However he continued to kiss the angel, long and deep, not really caring that his lungs were beginning to burn a little with lack of air.

Dean finally broke the kiss with a gasp, panting slightly as he gazed into the angel's eyes, and after a few more heartbeats started to push forward again. Drawing out slightly and then pushing in a little deeper. Easing his way further into his lover's body with small gentle thrusts, never looking away from Castiel's brilliant blue eyes. Wanting to see everything. 

* * *

Castiel was more than a little happy that Dean decided to pursue the intimacy. He felt Dean's cock at his entrance and then felt it as Dean pushed in, stretching him. He supposed were he human it might be uncomfortable, but the discomfort was minor at best. He made sure the muscles relaxed enough to let Dean in and suddenly Dean was gasping into their kiss, stiffening slightly with surprise and, Castiel thought, pleasure.

When Dean's fingers dug into his flesh, Castiel reached behind with one hand and gently stroked Dean's hip, giving a soft moan, liking the feel of the way they were connected. When they finally stopped kissing, Dean's eyes were locked on his.

"I like this," Castiel said softly, his eyelids drifting half closed when Dean pulled out and pushed back in a little deeper . "Mmmm, yes," the angel confirmed, squirming back against Dean. "This is…special," he finally said, searching for a word in the human speech that expressed how he felt and that was as close as he could come. He was surprised at how needy a tone his voice had taken on as he felt heat course through his body in a way it never had before.

When Dean pulled out a little again, Castiel pulled away a little, and when Dean pushed in, the angel pushed back, taking Dean in deeper. "All the way. You can push all the way. I would like that," he confirmed, and guided one of Dean's hands down to his hard cock. "Along with the stroking pleasure, if that is okay?" He kissed Dean hungrily, deciding he didn't really care if Dean did anything else other than stand there and kiss him. He just wanted Dean and himself to be close and touching. …Could angels fall in love? He wondered and began to doubt what he'd always been told: that they couldn't… 

* * *

  
_"It is. Special."_ Dean agreed with a small smile. His hand shifting from the angel's hip to cover Castiel's hand where it rested on his own. Holding it there while he continued to move slowly in and out of his lover's body in careful shallow thrusts.

He loved the contentment, the bliss, he could read in the angel's eyes. The way Castiel squirmed against him, pushing back, and taking more of him into his body eagerly. Seeing how much the angel was enjoying this went a long way to dissipating the nervousness Dean had been suffering. The pleasure they were both feeling erasing his doubts. Castiel wanted this. He wanted this. It was good. It was right.

Dean wanted to go slow, to take his time, savor every moment. To enjoy the way the angel's body welcomed him and clung to him. So hot. So tight. But it was hard. Hard not to simply push in deep, to feel that exquisite heat sheathing him completely all at once. He didn't want to be impatient. He wanted this to last. He didn't know if he would ever feel like this again and he didn't want to give it up.

But the way the angel asked for it, guiding his hand back to his cock, and then kissing him breathless, Dean knew he couldn't deny him. He groaned deeply into the kiss and gave his lover exactly what he wanted. His next thrust was still slow, but he didn't stop this time like he had before. Not until he was all the way inside, his balls pressed flush against the angel's ass, his cock buried deep.

_"Feels good... so good..."_ He wished he could describe to the angel how good it felt, how... perfect. Dean wasn't sure he had ever felt... like this... before. Sex, from before, had always been good. He'd always enjoyed it. But this was more. For so long sex had been used as a weapon against him, another form of torture, and pain. Now to feel like this. Feel pleasure. Feel safety and warmth. To feel close, connected, with another like this. It scared him. More than a little. But he would gladly take that fear if it meant he could have this always.

His fingers, still slick with soap, began gliding smoothly along his lover's rock hard cock. Giving the angel the pleasure he wanted as his hips began to move again. Drawing almost completely out of his lover's body and thrusting back inside. Slowly at first. Carefully. He knew the angel wasn't made of glass but he wanted to savor this feeling. But as the pleasure built and his control slipped further from his grasp his thrusts came faster. Stroking his lover's cock in the same rhythm, and trying to angle his thrusts to hit that special place inside of Castiel.

* * *

Castiel was warmed by the dreamy quality Dean's thoughts seemed to have when he told him it felt good. He agreed completely. It felt wonderful. He'd never had such a connection to a human before and it was fulfilling in ways he couldn't define. It wasn't particularly the sex, though he was definitely enjoying that with Dean, but it was the closeness, the intimate touches, the way the world seemed to fall away and narrow itself to it just being them. There were no demons, no apocalypse, no end of everything. It was just the two of them in a cabin in the woods, fresh hot water showering over them, as they enjoyed the presence of the other.

When Dean began to caress his cock, Castiel groaned softly, and then suddenly had to contend with the feelings evoked in him as Dean slowly slid in and out of his hole. Every time Dean hit that place inside him that made him shudder, he let Dean know it with a groan or moan of pleasure. The faster Dean moved, the more Castiel wanted to kiss him, but between the stroking pleasure, the quivering of his golden wings, and the way Dean sank inside him and pulled out, Castiel found it impossible. Instead he found himself pressing back against Dean, his head next to Dean's as his hand gripped Dean's hip a little tighter, then slid back to Dean's ass where he felt muscles clenching and rippling.

"Want you in ways I do not grasp," Castiel murmured. "This is…this is right," he said with a slight nod before he groaned again, thrusting into Dean's hand and then thrusting back against Dean's thick cock. "I want this…again. I want…more," he panted, pleased when Dean seemed to increase in pace. His balls were growing heavy and tight.

"I am close to pleasure," Castiel told him, unsure how else to express his approaching orgasm. 

* * *

Dean wasn't sure what he enjoyed more. Kissing the angel senseless, or listening to the groans, moans, and whimpers of pleasure that spilled from his lover's lips when they were free. He absolutely loved the sounds that the angel made. Loved that he could make the angel make those sounds. Sounds that were about as far from angelic as they could possibly be, and would probably put the best porn star to shame. Probably because they were real, and not faked. Every time he sank deep into the angel's body, his cock caressing that sensitive bundle of nerves inside his lover that made the muscles clench around his cock and an exquisite groan spill from the angel's lips...

He closed his eyes, savoring the sounds, savoring the feelings they stirred inside of him. It was heaven. Perfect.

Dean pressed his lips to the junction where the angel's neck met his shoulder. Licking away the warm droplets of water from his skin. He slid his hand up the angel's arm, from his lover's hand where it clutched his ass, up to his shoulder and back, then along the beautiful wings that trembled under his touch. His fingers sliding through the soft feathers, and that feeling that was almost like a low electric shock he always felt when he caressed the wings seemed to grow even more intense. Traveling up his arm and through his whole body.

He wanted to tell the angel he felt the same. How good this was. How right it felt. How he hadn't felt this way in so long... maybe not ever. But he could barely form a coherent thought right now. Dean could tell the angel was close even before his lover's breathless words. Dean was close too, as much as he wanted to make it last, the feelings were simply too intense. His thrusts starting to come more erratic. Desperate even.

_"Castiel!"_ Dean 'shouted' probably loud enough for all of heaven to hear him, every muscle in his body suddenly drawn tense as he came hard and deep inside his lover. Gasping and panting in his lover's ear. 

* * *

Dean didn't respond to his words, but when Dean's hand ran along his wings, it seemed to intensify everything for him, perhaps for them both, pushing him ever closer to his peak. Every touch from Dean was electric fire, every moan spilling from Castiel lips was like a voice for them both. He wished that the world could be frozen in time while he and Dean could go on experiencing these feelings and making love through the millennia. When Dean died and went to Heaven, at least Dean would be able to. And Castiel was suddenly jealous, jealous that he would go on forever…and never know this again.

Dean seemed to suddenly lose his carefully paced rhythm. The way he pumped in and out of Castiel was almost frantic, and Dean no longer stroked him, but just kept his hand there for Castiel to thrust into. The erratic thrusts seemed to light a new need within Castiel and he found himself increasing pace, pushing back against Dean harder, thrusting into Dean's hand faster until suddenly Dean's thoughts echoed in Castiel's mind. He heard many prayers through the ages but never before had he ever heard anyone cry his name in such a way. Even as he felt a strange warmth feeling him on the inside, his own balls tighten with a ferocity that made him cry out.

"Dean!" Castiel shouted, his voice reverberating in the shower, his voice filled with question and wonderment and ropes of thick cum left him. He could feel warm wetness dripping from his hole. He continued to ride out the waves of the orgasm, savoring ever clench his body made around Dean's still thrusting cock, savoring the way Dean held him and touched him and panted against his skin.

* * *

It was almost too much. He was shaking with the intensity of it all. The feelings coursing through his body, both physical and emotional. His cock still pulsing as he continued to thrust into the tight channel that fluttered and clenched around his over sensitive member. Feeling his lover's cock pulse, and the spill of the angel's hot seed through his fingers as Castiel shuddered and thrust into his grip. Castiel's shout of pleasure... his name...

Dean's heart clenched. His breath coming out as desperate pants against his lover's shoulder. He wrapped his arm around Castiel's waist just... just held on. Feeling like he might shake apart any moment he was trembling so hard.

What they had done. He'd known it was going to effect him hard. One way or another. But he still hadn't quite expected... He felt good. So very good. It had felt perfect. Right. They had both wanted it. Both enjoyed it. For Dean it had been more... more than he'd ever dreamed...

...And he was so fucking scared.

He knew what it was like to lose everything. Everyone that he'd ever loved. Even himself. These few short weeks he'd gotten a sliver of that back. He'd started to live again, and it suddenly dawned on him in this moment he had so much... so much to lose now. Bobby. Ellen. Castiel... and he was terrified.

So he held on. Pressed as close as possible and still buried deep within his lover. The intense pleasure still coursing through his veins like fire. His skin feeling hypersensitive wherever they touched as he pressed his lips to the angel's shoulder, neck, and jaw. Trying to hold onto the moment for as long as he could.

* * *

Castiel shivered under his touch and delicate, gentle kisses. Even if Dean didn't 'love' him, he felt loved and treasured. It wasn't the same as in Heaven, it wasn't the love the angels held for each other or held for their Heavenly Father. It didn't alter the fact that it was a type of love, a precious type that he understood was purely…human.

Twisting his head, he pressed his lips to Dean's and finding Dean's hands, pulled Dean's arms around his waist, putting his own hands over his lover's. He didn't say anything, just stood there and basked in the feelings Dean had brought forth in him. He knew the water would not stay warm much longer so he heated more of it with a thought, not wanting Dean to be subjected to a cold shower.

Comfortable. He was so comfortable here. Even comfortable in this body. Especially comfortable in Dean's arms. They simply stood that way for awhile, passing gentle kisses, touching one another. When he felt Dean start to pull out, he gripped Dean's hands, pulling Dean back in close to his body. "I like the feel of you inside me and…and I don't want to lose that feeling just yet. Please," he asked him. "Just a bit longer."

Castiel savored it, memorized it, feeling every plane of Dean's body pressed against him, exactly how much heat each part generated against his skin. The pressure of Dean's arms around him, the feel of Dean's cock still inside of him. It would be scorched into his memory so that he could always have it, no matter what else happened.

He finally gave a slight nod. "Okay. I am ready to be separate from you," he said softly, already mourning the loss before Dean ever moved to extract himself. 

* * *

Dean felt the angel's lips brush his own when Castiel turned towards him and he kissed his lover without hesitation. Soft and caring, their lips caressed over and over. It was so... peaceful. Calming. And Dean couldn't help but embrace that feeling of calmness, as he embraced every other feeling the angel had stirred inside of him. Safety. Comfort. Trust. Friendship. Passion. So many things he never thought he would ever feel again. Yes, he was still afraid. He knew it could all be ripped away from him again at any moment, and that terrified him. But that didn't mean he would give up what they had. He couldn't. He would cling to it for as long as he could.

When Castiel took his hands and pulled his arms around him, Dean hugged the angel tighter. They were standing as close as two people could possibly be. His chest pressed against the angel's back, his groin flush against the other man's ass, his cock still buried deep inside him, though it had grown soft since he was spent. The only reason he started to withdraw his flesh from his lover's body was because he was concerned it would soon become uncomfortable for the angel.

However when Castiel stopped him, Dean smiled and nodded. Taking the opportunity to kiss his lover again and savor the warmth between them. Even if they never did this again, Dean would always cherish these memories for the rest of his life.

When Castiel finally gave word he was ready, Dean nodded again, and reluctantly pulled out and took a step back. The hot water already beginning to erase the evidence of their passion from their skin now that they had parted. But when Castiel turned around to face him, Dean immediately stepped into his arms again, wrapped his arms around the angel's neck, and kissed him hard. As much as he'd liked kissing Castiel the way they'd been, he had to admit, this angle was much easier.

_"Thank you. For... for everything. Thank you."_ Dean said, smiling at the angel, when he finally let Castiel up for air. 

* * *

As soon as Dean pulled out, a soft sigh escaped Castiel. He hoped they could do this again. He hoped Dean had liked it well enough that they might. Maybe if he brought him balloons and chocolates and flowers and magazines again, he could encourage Dean to join him here again.

Turning around to face Dean, Castiel hadn't much more than met Dean's gaze than Dean stepped in close and began kissing him intensely. Even as Dean wrapped his arms around Castiel's neck, Castiel wrapped his arms around Dean's back. The kiss was hard and wonderful and like everything else with Dean, he didn't want it to end too soon. Unfortunately, the man had to breathe and broke off the kiss. Castiel found himself panting even though he technically had no need of air. It was…odd.

At Dean's words, Castiel gave a nod. "I think I should give the greater 'thank you.' I am glad you wished to join this way, to show me, to kiss me, to touch me, to let me understand better what human love is about. You have stirred things inside me that I did not know I could feel. And I like taking showers with you," Castiel confirmed, a slight smile curving his lips. "I wish we could stay here for a while. Being happy suits you well," he said, running his hand along the side of Dean's face. "But we can come here whenever you would like to come. Shall we finish washing now?" he asked, picking up the soap and beginning to generate lather which he then began to spread across Dean's chest using only his hands. "I have decided that using one's hands is better than using a washcloth."

* * *

Dean had little doubt he was probably blushing like a fool and grinning like a lovesick puppy at the same time when Castiel thanked him for teaching him and the feelings the angel had for him. It was like the ultimate chick flick moment in the sappiest romance novel. But he supposed it was better than getting over emotional again and bursting into tears or something. Sure he might not have a lot of pride left, but he did have some.

He couldn't help but turn his cheek into the angel's caress. Damn, he was going to miss these simple intimate touches when they went back. He'd already decided it was probably for the best if Bobby didn't know... how their relationship had changed. Or anyone else for that matter. Which really sucked because Dean was already thinking about how the cot he slept on was way too small, and how good it would feel to curl up with the angel to sleep at night.

Which of course reminded him of what he and the angel had talked about before. How it might be better to stop this before it went too far... year right, like it already hadn't gone far beyond that point already. Maybe it would be better, for both of them, if this was the one and only time. But as Castiel talked about the possibility of them returning here Dean wanted to tell all those reasonable arguments to go to hell.

Hadn't he already learned all too well how short life was? Dean could die tomorrow. They all could. Demons, led by Sam, had already destroyed most of the world. Killing or enslaving most of the humans out there. This was war and they were losing. Sooner or later this... this was all going to end. Did that mean he should deny himself some small sliver of happiness now?

Yes, it would hurt when Castiel had to leave him. But he'd gotten a taste of happiness now and he was too selfish to give it up. Even if it would only make the pain worse later... he would take that pain if it meant he could be happy now.

Castiel's words when the angel started running his soapy hands across Dean's skin made the young man laugh. He took the soap the angel set aside and copied his movements, lathering his hands and then running them over his lover's chest, working his way lower.

_"I think you're right."_ Dean agreed with a nod. There was no possible way, well at least for him, to go another round so soon. But that didn't mean he couldn't enjoy the feeling of the angel's soap slick skin under his hands as they ran across the angel's stomach and hips.

* * *

The way Dean's face turned a bit red, he knew he'd embarrassed him somewhat, but the big smile on his face told Castiel he hadn't embarrassed him in a bad way. It pleased Castiel that Dean pressed his cheek into Castiel's caress. He could feel the tumultuous emotions in the man but they didn't seem to be overwhelming or terribly dark, and he found he wished he knew what the young man was thinking.

Castiel's eyebrows arched as Dean's hands drifted down across his stomach and hips but said nothing. There was no conceivable limit to the number of times Dean could bring him to pleasure and if that pleased Dean, it pleased Castiel. He let his own hands mimic Dean's.

"I believe I grasp the concept of insatiable now," Castiel said, a glint of mischief in his blue eyes. "I will have to see to it the definition of insatiable includes, among its definitions, one Dean Winchester. Of course, 'handsome' will also have that definition. And 'treasured.' And any other synonyms I can determine are fitting."

Castiel slid his hands over Dean's ass cheeks, one hand sliding between to wash, but didn't linger. Instead moving back up Dean's back. 

* * *

Dean couldn't help but laugh at the angel calling him insatiable.

_"I've been called worse."_ The young man joked back. Giving his lover a playful grin. He'd assumed the angel was merely joking. But when the other man's hands slid over his ass, his fingers dipping between his cheeks briefly, Dean's breath hitched and his eyes widened.

He felt a bit of nervousness flutter in his stomach, but the angel's hands moved on rather quickly. Dean gave his lover a small smile to let him know everything was all right, even though his pulse was a bit quicker than normal. In spite of all they'd done today it was very obvious that he was in no way ready for... that... yet. Maybe not ever...

Though Dean couldn't deny feeling slightly guilty that he might not be able to give Castiel the same kind of pleasure, the same kind of trust, that the angel had given him today. It wasn't that he didn't trust Castiel. He didn't think the angel would hurt him, at least not purposefully. But still...

_"As much as I'd love to do more with you now, I just don't think I can. I'm only human after all."_ Dean decided to joke instead, giving the angel a playful wink. Besides, they really needed to get back. They'd been gone a really long time already, and Dean wasn't sure how he was going to explain it to Bobby where they'd been and what they'd been doing.

It would probably be easier to just tell the older man the truth but... he would, soon, but just not yet. Everything was still so uncertain right now. He wasn't even sure exactly what he felt for the angel. He didn't want Bobby to get the wrong idea, like Castiel had coerced him or something.

_"When we go back, I think it would be best if Bobby didn't know what we've been doing. Just for now. Until I can figure things out. Ok?"_ He told the angel as he ran his soapy hands back up across Castiel's chest and shoulders. His eyes meeting the angel's and hoping that Castiel understood. But considering Dean barely understood himself, he couldn't really expect the angel to. 

* * *

Castiel felt the immediate change in Dean when Castiel's touch descended into his lover's crack and traveled over his hole. He was merely washing…oh. That hadn't been his intention. Castiel gave a hasty shake of his head. "No, I hadn't meant…I do not think I am ready to attempt to be the one…doing as you did. I was only being…thorough…in washing you."

Smiling at Dean's wink and comment he gave a soft laugh. "Perhaps I may have believed being human had more drawbacks than benefits, but that was before you came into my existence. I think you are terribly fortunate to be human. The things you can feel, taste, and experience are near wondrous. My world is black and white. Yours is as bursting with colors as those flowers were that I brought to you."

Dean was obviously troubled about something and then he told Castiel that Bobby should not learn of their activities. Castiel ran his hands up to Dean's shoulders and then started washing down his arms. "I would prefer my brethren not be aware of this as well. I understand. You tell Bobby whatever you are comfortable with." He paused a moment then continued, "Bobby returned to his home while the water for this shower was heating. I added to your note, telling him that we were at the cabin and that you needed a little time away from camp. I told him if we would be longer than a few hours that I would contact him again. I hope you are not angry with me, but I knew you did not want him worrying about you and since I did not know how long the shower might take, I thought it best to simply tell him you wanted to return to the cabin for a bit. He did not seem distraught but selected a magazine from those I brought you and began reading it. If he inquires of me what we did I will tell him the basic truth. We sat by the fire, then you took a hot shower and insisted I try one as well. Is that acceptable?" 

* * *

Dean should have known trying to bluff the angel was pointless. Castiel always seemed to know what he was feeling, and picked up on it right away. So he definitely would have noticed the way Dean reacted to his touch. Dean felt a sudden need to apologize to the angel, especially when Castiel started apologizing to him, which was probably stupid on both accounts.

What had been done to him had messed Dean up in ways that... well... lets face it, if there were still shrinks left in the world they would have made a fortune off of him alone. It was probably a wonder Dean hadn't ended up a drooling vegetable long before now. It had probably come close several times. Every time Dean had gone 'away'. So no one could really blame him for getting weird about some things, especially when it came to sex. He just... just wasn't ready for that. There was no reason to apologize for that.

And there was no reason for Castiel to apologize to him. He hadn't done anything wrong. The angel hadn't done anything to hurt him. As Castiel pointed out, it wasn't even really sexual. Well, as much as two guys sharing a shower _couldn't_ be sexual.

So maybe it was best to just not make a big deal out of it. Dean merely smiled as the angel started going all poetic on him about the benefits of being human. Honestly, Dean wondered if that was even true. Humans were so fucked up. They'd been fucked up even before all this demon shit had gone down. Now... now they were just fucked, he supposed.

Dean sighed softly, wishing his mind would stop drifting towards depressing thoughts.

When Castiel agreed not to tell Bobby, mentioning it would probably be best that the other angels didn't know about their little tryst, Dean nodded in agreement. When it came to the other angels Dean couldn't help feeling like he had a big red bull's eye painted on his back and they were just waiting to take the perfect shot at him. Maybe that was being unfair, but he couldn't forget the reason they'd freed him from the demons was so they could use him somehow.

Dean had just about enough of people fucking him over, both literally and figuratively.

_"I'm not angry."_ Dean reassured the angel with a small smile when Castiel admitted to sending a little note to Bobby himself. He supposed it was best to keep the 'lie' simple by simply not telling the whole truth. The fact that Dean often liked to be alone would make it believable enough why he'd wanted to come back here. Also it was no secret that Dean avoided the communal showers like the plague, so it was good enough reason to return here so he could shower alone. If Bobby needed any more reasons, well, Dean would make them up as he had to.

_"Sounds good."_ Dean agreed with a nod. Then gave a slightly regretful sigh. _"Well, I guess we should go back then. Well, after we're dried and dressed."_ The young man added quickly, because, well, you never really knew how literal Castiel would take something. 

* * *

Looking up at Dean, Castiel leaned in and gave him a light kiss. "No need to be sad. I told you, we can return here at any time, whenever and however often you would like. It can be your…safe haven. Your…" his brow creased as he thought back to some of the human stories he had watched through the years. "…Fortress of Solitude, where you are always safe and protected."

After soaping his hands up again, Castiel finished washing the rest of Dean's parts, including a very clinical washing of his groin, except for one brief intimate stroke. His eyes were focused on Dean and his head tilted. "I have enjoyed all that we have done. Very much."

With that he knelt and washed Dean's thighs, then his legs and feet, before finally returning to standing and picking up the shampoo. He read the bottle as he felt Dean's soap-covred hands on him. "Strange and inefficient that this soap must be used, rinsed out, then used a second time in order to clean your hair properly. Humans always seemed obsessed with doing things as quickly as possible. I am surprised no one was ever able to devise a single wash shampoo. After all, you found your way into space, to your moon even, yet could not do this? As I have said before and will surely say again, humans baffle me at times," he said as he squeezed some shampoo into his hand and then began washing Dean's hair.

A smile returned to Castiel's lips. "This is strangely…fun, I believe is the word you would use." He liked the feel of the thick suds and running his fingers through Dean's hair and the scent of the shampoo was pleasing.

* * *

Dean smiled as the angel reassured him they could return here as often as he wanted. Even if that was technically the case, Dean knew it was more complicated than that. If he left the camp too often it was bound to be noticed sooner or later. Also there was no fucking way Dean was going through those tests every single time he returned. So someone was going to find out that too. Considering how people reacted to him and Castiel _now_ he could only imagine the shit storm that would cause.

The others in the camp might even decide to ban him from returning or something, as though they really could with him having an angel in his corner, but still that would only make things more complicated. Dean might not care about most of the people in the camp, but Dean did care about Bobby, and Ellen, and Zoey and Kent were cool too. Dean didn't want to leave them, and he didn't want to make their lives more difficult either. And what would happen when eventually Castiel was called elsewhere?

No, he was going to have to figure out some way to 'play nice' with the other people in the camp if he wanted to stay. And as much as he had enjoyed his time here with Castiel, they would have to be careful about it. It couldn't be an every day thing, or hell, probably not even a once a month thing. And since they also couldn't really do anything at the camp, at least, not until he told Bobby...

It was getting a little hard to keep thinking, or worrying is more like it, with Castiel touching him like that and Dean began to wonder if the angel was doing it on purpose. Even though the angel's touches were practically clinical they still felt pretty damn good. Well, he supposed he would have plenty of time to worry about shit when they got back.

Fortress of Solitude indeed, Dean thought with a slight grin. Then he couldn't help but laugh at the angel's comments about the shampoo. Right before the feeling of the angel's soap covered fingers massaging his scalp made him practically melt.

_"Yeah. It's nice."_ Dean agreed. His eyes closing as he relaxed into the feeling that wasn't girly at all, damn it. If he could he would have been purring. 

* * *

Castiel's smile grew as he felt Dean relaxing as more and more suds seemed to develop, creating a cascade of white silky bubbles. "I think I must have used too much," Castiel murmured as there seemed to be no end to the bubbles that slipped down Dean's face, down his back and onto his shoulders. Even so, Castiel continued until he felt he'd gotten every bit of Dean's hair and, admittedly, believed Dean would begin to get restless even though he was still enjoying watching the bubbles and spiking Dean's hair into points and horns and waves and anything else his hands happened to form as he washed Dean's hair.

With some reluctance, he gently pulled Dean back under the falling water and began rinsing his hair clean. He gave a slight frown. "Your hair seems adequately clean but it says on the bottle to do it a second time."

Before Dean could protest if he wanted to, Castiel was already putting more shampoo in his palm and promptly began washing Dean's hair a second time. "Hmm, perhaps I was wrong. Your hair does feel more silken."

He was as thorough the second time as he'd been the first, but he resisted the urge to shape Dean's hair into odd little sculptures…mostly. Rinsing Dean's hair again, this time Castiel leaned in and gently kissed him, knowing that too soon they would be back at camp and he would not be able to steal kisses from Dean. At least, not as easily.

He ran his hands slowly over Dean's body, as if memorizing it all over again, as he swept his tongue in Dean's mouth carefully exploring it all.

* * *

When Castiel mentioned the probability that he'd used too much shampoo, Dean had to agree with him given the amount of suds that had begun to drip down the side of his face and the back of his neck. It meant he had to keep his eyes closed or risk getting soap in them. Which wasn't exactly a problem really, but Dean did start to get a little curious as to what exactly the angel was doing when Castiel seemed to go from merely washing his hair to... playing with it. At one point he was even sure the angel had given him a Mohawk.

Dean was pretty sure that he'd never washed his hair for so long, ever, in his life but he really didn't have the heart to tell the angel to stop. Finally the angel guided him back under the showerhead, letting him rinse the soap from his hair and Dean opened his eyes. Giving the angel an amused look.

He figured they were done, but before he could explain to the angel that most people really only washed their hair once, and it wasn't necessary to follow the instructions on the bottle word for word, Castiel was adding more shampoo to his head. Dean laughed a little but closed his eyes and went along with it. After all, things like hot showers and shampoo were practically luxuries to him now and he was going to enjoy every moment of it. The fact that Castiel also seemed to enjoy it was a bonus.

_"Thanks."_ Dean snorted and made a face at the 'silken' comment regarding his hair. Even though he really enjoyed the feeling of the angel's fingers petting through his 'silken' hair. When he felt Castiel's lips on his own once more Dean sighed and parted them in invitation gladly. He wrapped his arms around the angel's neck as Castiel kissed him like it was the first time, exploring nearly every inch of his mouth.

Long enough that he began to feel a little light headed, and his knees began to feel a little weak, definitely not in a bad way. Yeah right, like he'd ever be able to give this up now.

Finally the angel let him up for air and Dean grinned at his lover even as he panted slightly out of breath.

_"Damn, that was awesome. You're a quick learner."_ The young man complimented, then his grin faded somewhat as he forced himself to release the angel. If he let himself he knew he could delay, and keep delaying, their return to the camp indefinitely. As appealing as it might sound they really couldn't stay here making out forever.

And Bobby was still waiting for them...

_"We should get back."_

* * *

Castiel was pleased Dean was happy with everything. He was smiling, his eyes were clear and sparkling and free of worry. He suspected 'awesome' didn't mean quite the same thing to Dean as it had meant in days of old, but he accepted it to mean a very good thing.

Then his smile faded and his eyes dulled as he declared they should return.

"You are my first and my only. You are apparently an…'awesome'…teacher," Castiel confirmed. "As you wish. After we have dried and dressed," he added to reassure Dean.

Turning to the shower's controls, Castiel shut them off, then squelched the fire heating the water with his mind. He selected a towel and handed the fluffy white towel to Dean, then picked up the remaining one for himself. He watched as Dean began drying off, copying Dean's actions while at the same time admiring Dean's nakedness in ways he knew were not angelic, but the human form seemed to make him feel more human every day. Or perhaps it was merely being around Dean, and the way Dean made him feel.

"We could perhaps return in a few days, once everyone is asleep one night. If you would like. We could stay a few hours, shower, then return to camp with hours left before anyone awakens. I believe I like hot showers with you."

Once dry himself, Castiel hung the towel up to dry, and waited for Dean, then followed him into the main room where their clothes were. Castiel pulled on his pants and shoes. His shirt, tie and trenchcoat were back at Bobby's. Turning to Dean he gave a nod. "Let me know when you are ready to return," he said as he waved his head and extinguished the fire in the fireplace.

* * *

First and only... Dean knew he probably shouldn't be feeling pleased, or at least, as pleased as he did hearing Castiel say that and that he was an awesome teacher. But the truth was he liked the reminder that he was the angel's first... his only...

Dean also knew that little possessive wish that formed in the back of his mind, that he would be the only one that Castiel was ever with, probably wasn't very healthy either. In fact, it was probably pretty fucked up. Castiel didn't _belong_ to him, after all. Castiel wasn't his... his... sex slave or anything. If the angel wanted to go out and practice everything Dean had taught him with someone else, or several someone's, or hell, screw everything with two legs left on the planet. It shouldn't matter to him.

Except that it did and that ugly little seed of jealousy that Dean felt forming in his stomach just thinking about it definitely wasn't healthy either. Fuck, maybe he was more messed up than he thought. If he was turning into some bitchy, clingy, insane, jealous girlfriend in his head just _imagining_ Castiel with someone else.

Yeah, maybe this wasn't such a good idea, Dean couldn't help but think to himself as he dried off. But the little super nova that went off inside of him when the angel started planning their next little... vacation... made Dean smile in spite of himself.

_"I'd like that."_ Dean admitted, giving the angel a slight grin, and he knew he was toast. This, whatever it was between them, might be one of the worst things Dean had ever done, but he was beyond turning back now. It was like a runaway freight train. Impossible to stop now. It might all end in tragedy, hell of course it would, when had anything ever ended good for him? But since he couldn't stop it now, he might as well enjoy it for as long as it lasted.

And do his best not to turn into some fucking insane clingy girlfriend on the poor angel.

Dean went back into the main room and started pulling on his clothes. He could feel Castiel's eyes on him practically the entire time but he didn't really mind. When he finished and turned to the angel, he saw Castiel was still shirtless, and then remembered the rest of the angel's clothes were back at Bobby's place. Crap! What were the odds that Bobby hadn't noticed them? Probably slim. But if Castiel popped in sans shirt the older hunter would definitely notice.

_"Um... when you go back. Can you like, poof on the rest of your clothes before Bobby sees you?"_ Dean asked hopefully. The angel had gotten them off pretty darn quick when Dean had asked, after all, so the opposite should be easy enough. 

* * *

"Poof on?" Castiel said, furrowing his brow. Humans had such a colorful way with words. He considered a moment, then selected a shirt and coat from the supplies at the cabin. "As you do not wish Bobby to notice, and as it might be best for me to be more human to the camp, perhaps a change of clothes might be appropriate. It is human to wear different clothes, yes?" he asked as he 'poofed on' a lightweight dark sapphire-blue long-sleeved shirt and a black fall coat. "If Bobby inquires, I was trying on some different shirts at your behest, but nothing in his supplies suited. Which, is in fact true. None of the clothing in his cabin would fit me as well as some of the clothing here. Are you ready?"

When Dean gave a nod, Castiel lightly touched his arm and took them to just inside the door of Bobby's cabin. "We have returned," he said to Bobby. He noticed the balloons were still floating a bit from spot to spot on the ceiling and that Bobby had gone through the bags. The contents were spread out on the coffee table, in neat little stacks of organization. Ellen had joined Bobby and they were sharing some whiskey and reading some magazines and talking.

Both of them turned and their brows raised, seeing Castiel in something other than his trademark trench coat.

"Well if that don't beat all. Thought that coat of yours was a permanent fixture on you," Ellen said, nodding in approval.

"Feeling better?" Bobby asked Dean. He noticed both the men's hair was wet.

* * *

Dean watched as the angel went over to a stack of clothing and selected something for himself to wear, and the young man laughed softly at himself. Trust the angel to figure out a far simpler solution to the whole clothing issue. Definitely a lot easier than having the angel try to magically dress himself when they got back to Bobby's home and hope that the older man didn't notice. It even provided a pretty plausible explanation why the angel's clothes had been left back at Bobby's cabin, and a reason for their trip out here so soon after the last.

After the angel had dressed the young man couldn't help but admire the angel's choice in clothing. It was definitely nice and made the angel look less like a tax accountant or something like his old clothes did. Hell, it might even help smooth some ruffled feathers back at the camp seeing the angel looking more 'human' as Castiel put it.

The fact that he thought the angel looked even better without the clothes, Dean would keep to himself.

When Castiel asked him if he was ready, Dean nodded, and with a simple touch they were back in Bobby's home. He must be getting used to the sensation of Castiel 'zapping' him from place to place because he didn't feel nearly as disorientated as he had the first time the angel had done it.

He wasn't expecting to see Ellen sitting in the living room with Bobby, but he offered the two a smile and hoped he didn't look like he felt. Kind of like a kid with his hand caught in the cookie jar.

He made his way over to where the two were sitting and nodded in answer to Bobby's question. He hadn't even realized how much... stuff... Castiel had brought him before he saw it all sitting laid out on Bobby's coffee table. The balloons were still floating merrily on the ceiling, and Dean batted away a few of the stings hanging down as he made his way over to the couch and sat down, picking up his slate.

_We miss anything?_ Dean wrote. To Castiel he said, _"If they ask, you can tell them. You know, what we talked about."_

* * *

Ellen glanced at Bobby and he looked back at her, giving a slight shrug. After giving him a slight glare, she turned her attention on Dean.

"You know there was a council meeting?" At Dean's confirmation she continued on. "One of the things brought up was that your blood was tested and, well, it got some strange results back. We don’t rightly know what it means, Dean. Your blood just isn't completely…normal. Castiel, you have any idea why we're getting back some abnormalities?" she asked.

Castiel settled on the couch next to Dean and considered his answer. "If he was evil, demonic, my presence would disturb him. I would not have been able to heal him…however, there are some…differences…in his blood compared to most humans. I am not certain what has caused them or how they affect him other than to say, the anomaly did not worry my brothers and sisters, and I sense it like…like a woman wearing perfume or a man who has recently drank whiskey. It is likely little more than an after-effect of his time with the demons, or possibly related to the deal in which he was part of the barter. Either of those things could have easily caused this. I promise you, all of you," he said being sure to meet Dean's eyes briefly, "it causes him no harm nor is any danger to those around him. I swear this by the Holy Father."

"You don't know what it is and you don't know what caused it, but it's not gonna hurt him?" Bobby demanded. "Well that's just reassuring as hell!"

Castiel's eyes flashed as he focused on Bobby. "It is entirely possible he was simply born that way, with minor," he paused, searching for the word the humans used, "genetic differences. As I said, it is different from _most_ humans but not _all_ humans. I am not omnipotent and I was not around Dean prior to now. Gabriel may well know. When next I speak with him, I will ask him. But, as you humans seem to always require repetition in order to understand something, I will say again, it is a non-issue. What else concerned your council?" Castiel asked stiffly.

"There's concern you're going to go all vengeful angel on the camp again," Ellen said, trying to distract Castiel from his intense focus on Bobby.

Castiel huffed with annoyance. "Why does anyone here think they merit my attention? My job is to protect Dean Winchester. I have no desire to harm anyone here. In an effort to ease tensions, I was healing those injured prior to the attack that nearly killed my charge. If anyone intentionally attempts to injure Dean, I will respond with appropriate justice. I did not kill those who nearly killed Dean, thus giving them the opportunity to be forgiven of the sin of murder, for Dean would have surely died had I not been here. Dean does not wish to leave here, to leave you," Castiel said, glancing between Ellen and Bobby, "and I do not wish to take him from those for whom he cares. I am attempting to be less intimidating. Your council is worrying needlessly and doing nothing to ease the concerns of the camp. They should be tending to the welfare of the camp rather than worrying about one bodyguard who will harm no one so long as Dean is not harmed." After giving another sigh, Castiel waved his hand. "I will not leave Dean's side unless the camp regains my trust, however, if they want more healed, I will do so if the sick and injured are brought into my presence, one at a time."

"Thought you said you wouldn't heal anyone else," Bobby said cautiously.

"It fosters good will and humans have short memories. As much as many wish to believe, I am not the enemy, and am trying not to emulate my brothers in being what you call a 'dick.'"

"You've been doing a pretty decent job," Ellen said. "Even so, the council has some demands—"

"I do not answer to them," Castiel interrupted.

"Requests. The council has some requests," Bobby said quickly.

Castiel gazed coolly at Bobby for a minute, then after glancing at Dean, turned back to Bobby. "Perhaps it would be best if the council submitted their requests to me in writing. I can take my time and consider my answers in private," he said, but his tone was clear. He wanted it in writing so he didn't inadvertently injure the messenger. "Dean has not eaten since before he slept. He is likely hungry," Castiel said, deciding changing the topic of conversation was probably a good idea.

* * *

Dean saw the looks being passed between Bobby and Ellen, and he could only imagine what they were thinking. But they didn't ask any questions about where he and Castiel had gone, or why the angel had returned in new clothes, or the fact that both of them were wet. Crap. Maybe Dean should have said something, or at least, had the angel say something. He could only imagine what kinds of conclusions the two were coming to themselves. But if Dean had brought it up first, made excuses, that only would have made him seem guilty, and they probably would have seen right through his bullshit. Right?

He supposed it didn't matter now. If he brought it up now it would only seem even more weird, and probably make them even more suspicious about what was going on. Especially when there were more important things to worry about apparently.

Yes, Bobby had mentioned the meeting before he'd left. His memory wasn't _that_ bad. He'd figured it was regarding him, the attack on him, and how Castiel had retaliated against that attack. Dean had been worrying a little about the meeting on and off since the older man had left. Well, when Dean hadn't been distracted by... other things. But he figured since Bobby and Ellen were sitting here reading outdated magazines when they got here the news couldn't have been too bad.

But when Bobby mentioned his... blood... that was definitely not something Dean had expected. What about his blood? What abnormalities? They'd tested his blood when he first got here. He'd thought he was fine. No one had said anything about it until now?

Dean looked at Castiel when Bobby asked him if he could explain what the hell was weird about his blood, but when the angel said he didn't know that didn't give him much comfort. It made him smell bad? What? Castiel said it wasn't evil, but was that true? If it was because of the deal, or because of his extended time with demons, or something else that had been done to him while he was there, how could it not be evil?

It was clear that Bobby shared his doubts regarding the angel's explanation, or lack of it. Well, maybe not the same doubts. Bobby only seemed concerned that these abnormalities or whatever would hurt _him_ or something. Dean was far more concerned about what effect it might have on others. Which was probably the camp's justifiable concern as well.

Dean wanted to ask Castiel more about it. Like, if Castiel said his blood was only different from _most_ humans than what kind of blood was it similar to. But since the angel said he would discuss the matter with Gabriel, and seemed to be getting a bit irritated by the discussion, or maybe he was just being protective, maybe it was best to drop the topic for now. That didn't mean Dean wouldn't worry in the mean time however.

Then came the topic that Dean had figured been the main one at the meeting. Dean wasn't sure if the angel's rather blunt point that he really didn't give a crap about most of the people here was a good or bad thing. Well, maybe that was a bit harsh. The not caring part, because he was sure Castiel _did_ care, at least somewhat. But at the same time he really had no personal interest in them. Castiel had punished the ones who'd tried to kill him. He doubted they would ever come near Dean again, but then again, the camp wasn't really all that big a place. So total avoidance wasn't practical. But Dean also seriously doubted that they, or anyone else, would ever try something like it again. So, it was pretty much a non-issue. There would probably be hard feelings for a while, but hopefully with time those would fade.

He was glad that Castiel decided to help out healing again. He was right, it would help produce good will and should help make things easier. Though hearing that the council had some _demands_ of the angel even before he heard Castiel's tone made him wince a little. Didn't these people have any idea what they were messing with? Wrath of god? Hello? He hoped, for their sake, that their 'demands' weren't unreasonable. Good will went both ways after all.

_"You're not a dick."_ Dean reassured the angel, since it seemed to bother Castiel so much.

When the angel changed the subject it was probably for the best. It appeared as though people were concerned, but they weren't trying to force him and the angel to leave. Yet. It could be worse. As long as the residents of the camp weren't outside waving torches and pitchforks he supposed things weren't all that bad. And he supposed he was a little hungry. He'd certainly worked up an appetite at least, a thought which had the young man fighting a grin. Dean honestly wasn't even sure how long they'd been gone.

So he nodded in agreement and wrote on his slate.

_Did we miss dinner?_   


* * *

"That's our boy," Ellen said, giving Dean a smile. "Always thinking with his stomach."

"But stomachs can not—" Castiel began but fell silent when all three of the humans looked at him. "I look forward to trying another meal," Castiel finished instead of fighting them on the fact that stomachs were incapable of thought. Humans certainly had strange ideas and stranger sayings. "I look forward to trying more human things. Are you enjoying the presents I brought?"

"Nice to have somethin' new to read," Bobby said with a nod. "But what's with the balloons?"

Castiel was silent, glancing briefly at Dean then returning his attention to Bobby. "I thought some color…might be appreciated."

"I know what I appreciate," Ellen said pointing to one of the small boxes of chocolates. "These are worth as much as liquor and cigarettes, too. You want to win over just about every woman in this camp, bring them chocolates. The men, bring 'em alcohol."

Castiel gave a slight shake of his head. "I believe it is more complicated than that. But I can acquire more items for the camp soon."

"Sometimes it is," Ellen said, popping a chocolate into her mouth, closing her eyes as she 'mmmmed.' She finally opened her eyes and gave Castiel a smile and a shrug. "And sometimes it's not. We like our comfort foods. Our chocolate, and sweets, and coffee and whiskey and beer." She picked up a comic book. "We like our childhood memories," she said as she flipped the comic book open and glanced over a few pages before she set it back on the table. But you two boys want some food. Hunters caught some boar so we're having us some roast pig tonight and cooking up some winter apples and I'm not sure what else they've got going. Not on kitchen duty today. Should be ready in about an hour though. I'll see you all at dinner. Got a few things to do over at my place. You two make sure your hair is dry before you step outside and catch yourself a cold."

Ellen looked at Bobby and rolling her eyes and shaking her head a bit, she glanced at Dean. "And Bobby has something to tell you, Dean. Don't you Bobby?"

"Woman, git," Bobby said, but his cheeks suddenly grew pink. "I'll tell him."

* * *

Dean couldn't help but smile at Ellen's teasing. He'd certainly been accused of worse. At least the change in subject seemed to have effectively diffused the tension from their recent discussion.

When Castiel started to speak, and everyone turned to look at the angel, Dean's grin only grew. Especially when the angel trailed off without finishing his comment, looking a little embarrassed. It was quite endearing, and made Dean want to do all kinds of crazy things. Like leaning over to kiss the angel, or take his hand, or something equally chick-flicky. God, when did he become such a girl?

Tempting though it was he didn't give into the impulse. Though he simply couldn't help the slight flush that stained his cheeks when the angel mentioned 'trying more human things'. Yeah, he knew of a lot of 'human things' he wanted to try out with the angel, but he definitely didn't need to be thinking about them right now.

He was never going to be able to keep this... thing... between him and the angel secret from Bobby and Ellen if Dean kept acting like some kind of blushing virgin girl or something.

Thankfully everyone seemed more interested in the discussion and the 'presents' Castiel had brought him than his flushed cheeks. He hoped Ellen was right and distributing some of this stuff amongst the other people here might help smooth things over. Castiel really was going beyond the call of duty here trying to make nice with these people. Offering them healing and apparently to go on shopping trips for them to try to get back in their good graces. When really, it should be them trying to get back into _his_ good graces, considering this had all started because some idiots had tried to stab Dean in the back.

Dinner sounded great, his mouth already starting to water as Ellen describe what was being served, and apparently they hadn't missed it yet. So that meant they would probably have to eat in the mess hall with everyone else. Though Dean wasn't really looking forward to it he knew he couldn't hide out here forever.

Dean smiled at Ellen's mothering and nodded as she stood up to leave, but when she mentioned that Bobby had something _else_ to tell him he was definitely surprised. Especially when looking to the older man questioningly he saw Bobby's face turn red. Had he _ever_ seen Bobby blush? About _anything_? No, and he knew some pretty embarrassing stuff about the older man.

Dean's eyebrows rose, and he waited expectantly, his curiosity definitely peaked.

* * *

Bobby huffed in annoyance as Ellen walked out of the cabin, a swirl of briskly cold air left in her wake as she pulled the wooden door closed. "That woman, always got to have things her way," he muttered. Setting aside his magazine, Bobby cleared his throat.

"Ellen and I, we been, ah, together, on and off now and again," Bobby said, pulling off his ball cap and wringing it in his hands. "Maybe…maybe a lot more on than off. And with all the crazies jackasses still in the world, and you just never knowing what the next day is gonna bring, I…I asked her. You know. Her and me, making it official-like."

Castiel's attention was focused on Bobby, but, Bobby seemed to be making no sense. "I have often seen you two together. You seem to enjoy being with her. And she, you. What did you ask her? Making what official?" he asked, trying to puzzle out all the innuendos.

"I asked her to marry me, you idget," Bobby snapped.

Castiel's eyes grew a little wide. "Oh." He thought about this a minute then tilted his head. "Then you mean you and she have been having sex? And have found her pleasing enough to wish to be with her permanently. That you love her. She has found the same to be true?"

Bobby's cheeks turned scarlet. "Yes! Ellen and I are going to get married. And Dean, I want you to be my best man. You know, iffen you don't mind? Jo's gonna be her maid of honor. We're gonna get married in a few weeks."

Straightening his cap back out, he pulled it back onto his head. "Since she watches over the alcohol and other supplies, I'll be moving in with her. These books are important, but generally ain't got nobody trying to sneak off with 'em. So, we thought you could take over living here for now and the council agreed. Eventually…eventually, once you've gotten re-acclimated to being with people and we don't think you're in danger, you'll be given other quarters probably. Ellen and I talked and we both think you shouldn't be living alone right now, so I'll be living here for a while longer. So…whaddaya think?" 

* * *

Dean's eyebrows climbed, and they seemed to keep on climbing the more that Bobby talked.

Bobby and Ellen? Together? Like, _together_ together? And they were going to make it official? Like _official_ official?

Dean blinked. Then he blinked again. Trying his best to wrap his head around this new knowledge. He was serious. Dean had no doubt of that. Bobby wasn't just fucking with him. The man wouldn't be blushing this much if he were just fucking with him. He supposed... he supposed he could see it. Like Castiel said, he'd seen the two of them together. A lot. He just never thought...

Castiel's confusion over the whole thing just made it seem more surreal. Or was that amusing? He honestly couldn't tell. He was still in a bit of shock from the news. Why hadn't they said anything about it until now? If they were planning to get _married_ of all things, this wasn't just a fling or something. They'd been... together... for a while now. Why hadn't they told him?

Maybe for similar reasons why he wanted to keep the thing between him and Castiel a secret.

When Castiel gave his very... blunt... analysis of the situation Dean couldn't help but snort. Hard. Trying his best to hold back his laughter but it wasn't easy. Especially when Bobby started to turn as red as a friggen tomato.

It was a bit easier to get his amusement under control when Bobby dropped the next bomb on him. That he wanted _him_ to be his best man of all things. Seriously... this was serious, Bobby and Ellen were really getting married. How did he feel about that? Well, they were his two closest friends left, well, besides Castiel. He wanted them to be happy. They seemed to get along well together so... he supposed he was happy for them. Surprised, sure. But definitely happy.

Dean's grin was back. Even though Bobby was talking about moving out sometime in the near future. Sure, that made Dean a bit nervous, not having Bobby so close. Maybe that was part of the reason they hadn't told him till now. But still, he would be fine. He had Castiel after all.

Dean opened his mouth. Forgetting for a moment that he couldn't speak, and really hating his disability at the moment. Glancing at his slate that just seemed so inefficient. So Dean got up and went over to the older man, pulled Bobby out of his chair, and hugged the man. 

* * *

Bobby wasn't surprised by the shock on Dean's face, but the angel's indelicate way of putting things just seemed to embarrass the hell out of Bobby. At least the angel had said sex instead of something crude like 'fuck' where he might just have had to punch the guy, angel or not. Though the way Dean snorted in amusement, whether at the whole situation, or if he thought Bobby was loco, or just laughing at the angel's…unique…way of putting things.

Still, he saw Dean's grin and knew Dean was happy for him. Mr. 'no chick-flick' moments crossing the room, yanking him to his feet, and then hugging the daylights out of him, told him Dean had definitely changed. But that was okay. Bobby liked this change. That Dean could express himself without all the macho he-man crap armor. He didn't have to put on any sort of mask for anyone anymore. That, Bobby was certain, was very good for Dean. Bobby gave Dean a hug then slapped him on the back. "I know, you probably think I'm crazy." He pushed back from Dean and looked into his grinning face. "Don't know, I might be, but Ellen and me, it just works and both of us. And we've both lost so damned much, just seems like this helps some. And we get each other in ways a lot of other folk in this camp don't understand. Not like most of them here were hunters before." Giving Dean's shoulder a squeeze he turned to the bottle of alcohol and poured them each a drink.

"Castiel, I know this ain't your job but since you've offered to pick up a few things when you're out," he handed Castiel the glass of liquor, "do you think you could maybe pick her up a wedding dress? We got a few suits around here, but the women don't have any fancy dresses and I know that Ellen wouldn't really care but, I'd like to get her one. And it would be something she could pass down to other women in camp wanting to get married."

Accepting the whiskey, Castiel gave a short nod. "I will attempt to. That is all I can promise."

"I understand," Bobby said solemnly. "To weddings, women, and whiskey," Bobby said, then tossed back the shot he'd poured for himself and saw Castiel mimic the way Dean tossed back a drink almost perfectly. He chuckled and pointed a finger a Dean. "I think you're teaching our angel bad habits."

* * *

Dean laughed and relaxed his hold on the older man when Bobby started to pull away. Raising his hand and holding his forefinger and thumb about an inch apart to show the older man that yes, he thought Bobby was crazy, but only a little bit. It was still a bit hard to believe. Bobby and Ellen getting married. But he wanted his friends to be happy and since the two of them seemed happy together, Dean was all for it.

Though he wasn't really looking forward to the first time Bobby and Ellen got into some kind of husband and wife argument. Considering both their fondness for shotguns.

Yeah, best not to get between that. Just sit back and take bets.

Dean snickered a little at his own musings, and accepted the drink Bobby offered him. He was pleased to see Bobby offer Castiel a drink too, and even more when the angel accepted it without a fuss. Maybe Castiel was learning after all.

As the older man spoke with the angel about the possibility of getting Ellen a wedding dress for the occasion, Dean wondered if it was his duty, as the best man, to come up with some kind of bachelor party for Bobby. Back in the day he probably would have just dragged his friend to the nearest strip joint, maybe calling up some of their hunter buddies to tag along. But that was probably out now.

He was definitely going to have to think on it.

Dean smiled at Bobby's toast and tossed back his drink. Though he coughed and almost choked when Bobby mentioned him teaching the angel 'bad habits'. Hopefully his red face would be explained by the whiskey going down the wrong way.

* * *

"Dean, drink it, don't breathe it," Bobby scolded him and pounded him on the back a few times. "Castiel don't want to cure you of pneumonia brought on by breathing whiskey."

Castiel gave Bobby a nod when Bobby glanced at him, but he noticed Dean's red face and the way Dean's heart raced. He knew it wasn't because Dean inhaled a bit of alcohol. It was, he suspected, because of what they had been doing at the cabin that Dean didn't want Bobby to know about. That Castiel did not want his own brethren to learn of because he knew they would remove him as Dean's guardian. Angels and humans were not supposed to join in that fashion. Too many angels had fallen in the beginning because of humans.

"Breathing whiskey is not an enhancement to your health," Castiel agreed with Bobby, but he was also trying to tease Dean. Angels had a sense of humor very different from humans so he wasn't certain if it was human-funny or not. When Bobby offered him more alcohol, he held out his glass and accepted it. When they all had more in their glasses, they all three tossed their drinks back at once.

Smacking his lips, Bobby looked at the label. "Some mighty good whiskey you found here."

"I thought you would appreciate Dean having his own bottle so he wouldn't have to drink yours," Castiel said.

Bobby snorted. "It don't matter. Dean knows he's welcome to as much of it as he wants. As far as I'm concerned, it's his whiskey too," he said with a nod to Dean. "Castiel, think you could heal Zoey's arm first chance you get?" He wanted to add but didn't 'since you broke it and all.'

"That was an unfortunate accident and careless on my part. I will heal it and…apologize? That would be the proper human thing to do, yes?" Castiel asked, looking between the men.

"What would you do if you hurt one of the other angels? Wouldn't you apologize?"

"They would not be that fragile as to be damaged by what I did. But no. I would not apologize. They would know any injury they received from me was unintentional. If it was intentional, I would be disciplined for causing injury to another angel or banished from Heaven." Castiel didn't really grasp the concept of apologizing. If it was intentional, then an apology would not be given. If it wasn't intentional, then though he might have been in error, he had not meant to do the act and thus, it should be understood and again, no apology was needed.  
  
"Another reason I guess we consider angels dicks. They don't try to make nice with us," Bobby said.

"That is not our way. They simply do not understand."

"But you do," Bobby asked, cocking an eyebrow at him.

Castiel glanced at Dean, then returned his gaze to Bobby. "I am trying to. I want to. Though many human actions and reactions are still somewhat…unfathomable to me. I may 'react' properly by human standards, but that does not mean I necessarily fully grasp why it is the proper reaction. 

* * *

Thankfully Dean had only inhaled a bit of alcohol, and though it had certainly burned going down, he managed to recover fairly quickly. Enough to give the older man a mock glare in response to the teasing, and flip him the bird with a grin.

Dean was a bit surprised when Castiel joined in the teasing and he raised an eyebrow at the angel.

_"Smart ass."_ Dean told the angel, chuckling softly and rolling his eyes a bit, but he certainly didn't refuse the second glass of whiskey that Bobby poured him. Thankfully the second glass went down better than the first, and it also hit him harder than he expected. Well, maybe that shouldn't have been surprising considering how much he'd had to drink of it before, well, before he'd jumped Castiel.

Deciding he should probably sit down before he made an even bigger fool of himself or something, Dean returned to his seat on the couch. While Bobby and Castiel talked he started looking through some of the stuff laid out on the coffee table. He'd only taken a brief glance at it all before when Castiel had brought it, having been more interested in the liquor.

Bobby was right, it had been damned good. He kind of hoped that Castiel could find more, but he was hesitant to ask. It seemed like they, the humans that was, were already asking a lot from the angel. Castiel was already going out of his way to be nice to them, to him, bringing him all this stuff in an attempt to cheer him up. But Castiel wasn't their errand boy and he didn't want the angel to be treated that way. Not even by himself.

He was going to make damned sure the people here didn't abuse Castiel's good will.

Dean looked up when Bobby mentioned Zoey and a concerned look passed over Dean's face remembering what had happened to her. Bobby had told him when he'd first gotten back, but he guessed it hadn't really sunk in at the time. Considering the whole mess in his head at the time, he probably couldn't be blamed, but still, he'd almost forgotten about it, and that made Dean feel guilty.

Yeah, it had been an accident. And yes, it hadn't really been Dean's fault that he'd been attacked, but still, he should have gone to her the first chance he got and apologized. If not for Dean she wouldn't have been hurt. If he had just stayed at Bobby's maybe none of this would have happened at all. Or if it had, maybe he would have been alone when it had happened and Zoey wouldn't have gotten hurt because of it.

Maybe if Dean had been alone, he would be dead by now.

Dean sighed heavily. Maybe he would go along with Castiel when he went to fix her arm to apologize to Zoey as well. He wondered if she would still want to let him work for her at the motor pool. Probably not. Considering all the trouble he'd brought with him.

Dean moved aside one of the stacks of magazines and saw a rather fancy looking wooden box that he hadn't noticed before. Raising an eyebrow in curiosity Dean opened the box and his eyes widened when he saw what was inside. A rather expensive looking semi automatic, engraved, and inlaid with mother of pearl. Definitely way more expensive a gun than he'd ever owned in his life. Well, now he knew what the boxes of ammunition he'd seen earlier was for.

He glanced at the angel with wide eyes and then back down at the weapon. Slowly Dean lifted the gun out of the box. It fit his hand perfectly and despite how long it had been since he'd held a gun the weight of it felt natural. Guess it was just one of those things you didn't really forget. Like riding a bike. Dean wondered if he could still hit a target like he used to.

Bobby had mentioned something about getting him a weapon eventually. If the council 'approved' it. Well, screw that. What the council didn't know wouldn't hurt them. Not that he planned on using it. Not even on the douche bags that had stabbed him in the back. But Dean would feel a lot better, a lot safer, walking around with a weapon of his own just in case.

Dean looked at the angel again and smiled at him before carefully placing the gun back in the velvet lined box. _"Thank you."_  


* * *

  


Castiel was unsure if "smart ass" was a compliment or insult, but the 'tone' of Dean's thoughts was light and teasing, so he assumed his joke had been human-funny and that pleased him. While talking with Bobby he discreetly watched as Dean sort of staggered and then sit down. Dean's brow creased while they spoke of Zoey. Was Dean upset with Castiel for injuring Zoey. It had been careless of him, but angels did tend toward being wrathful. They may not have a wide range of emotions but wrathful was certainly among them.

He saw Dean's eyes widen as Dean found the gun he'd gotten for him. Dean had been a warrior before he had been captured. Castiel hoped that once again being armed might give him strength, that if he felt fear or nightmarish thoughts try to overtake him, the comfort of having one's weapon close at hand should not be underestimated.

Seeing that precious smile on Dean's face as he told Castiel thank you was worth it all. It was almost better than when Dean had seen the balloons, but with the balloons Dean had laughed. He had blessed the ammunition as well, to hopefully give Dean a bit more comfort. He wasn't quite certain why Dean wasn't keeping the gun out, and instead putting it back in its box, but perhaps having a weapon at hand while intoxicated was unwise.

"So how do you know how to react like a human?" Bobby asked him.

Castiel's gaze flicked from Dean back to Bobby. "I have always enjoyed watching humans. Sometimes I took note of exchanges between people, especially if the actions were particularly unclear. I would watch for similar exchanges and try to puzzle them out. Of course," and here Castiel gave a slight nod, "the reactions I saw may not have always been the best reactions."

Bobby gave a non-committal "hunh" to that, and made a mental note if Castiel did something way out of line, that he might not realize it. Turning to Dean, Bobby asked, "So, you're feeling a little more grounded? One of these days you'll have to give me a tour of your private cabin." He gave a soft chuckle and wink. "Maybe I could steal it for a short honeymoon." 

* * *

After setting the gun box aside Dean picked up one of the magazines off the stack and started flipping through it while he listened to Bobby and Castiel talk.

He thought about what Castiel said, about watching humans, and trying to puzzle them out. Trying to figure out how to 'react like a human' to different situations. How difficult it must be to try to understand a species you knew nothing about, had only ever observed, but never interacted with. Especially humans given how contradictory and unpredictable they could be.

Given all that, he supposed it was a wonder the angel was doing as well as he was dealing with them.

When Bobby asked him if he were feeling better, Dean looked up and nodded. Given the last time he'd seen Bobby Dean had still been rather upset about the whole attack, Castiel taking him away without permission, and not telling Bobby where he was, he probably shouldn't have been surprised by the question. Though he couldn't help but wonder if there was a double meaning in the older man's words.

Did Bobby suspect anything about him and Castiel?

Maybe, but not enough to call him on it. Not yet at least. Though if Dean put up any protest to Bobby and Ellen using his 'private cabin' as a honeymoon suite that would probably make the older man a lot more suspicious. Its not that Dean didn't want to share... ok, so maybe it was. But Dean had kind of been looking forward to returning to the cabin with Castiel, maybe making use of that big bed he'd woken up on the first time. The idea of Bobby and Ellen using the bed for their honeymoon...

Yeah, kind of like your parents having sex. Just not something you want to imagine.

But Dean couldn't really think of any reason _not_ to let Bobby and Ellen use the cabin. At least, no reasons that wouldn't give them away. So Dean shrugged slightly and nodded. 

* * *

Bobby could see Dean's reluctance to take him to the cabin. He gave Dean a small smile. He could tell Dean didn't want to share and he thought he might understand that. It was one place that no one else knew about, that he could go to and feel safe and maybe feel like it was his. Glancing at Castiel, he saw Castiel's brow crease ever so slightly. Castiel had mentioned something about not flying around a lot or he might attract attention and Bobby had already asked him to find a wedding dress for Ellen. And if something happened at the camp? Or if Castiel got called away? The camp would certainly survive without Ellen and Bobby, but he wasn't real keen on being away like that…even if he sort of craved having a night or two with it just being him and Ellen. Not having to worry about anyone or anything else.

Castiel set his empty glass down. Angels could be jealous and a little protective and he found himself feeling that way about Dean. He did not wish to share their privacy with Bobby and Ellen. After considering his words for a moment or two, he finally spoke up. "Bobby, I do not believe the cabin would be as suitable a place for a 'honeymoon' as some other places I could take the two of you to. I could take you to a tropical island perhaps, or a cabin overlooking a waterfall? I could take you anyplace. I chose to take Dean to the cabin simply because it is relatively close, untouched, and offered supplies, including clothing that would fit Dean. As I understand honeymoons, they should be…romantic…than the simple cabin. Consider where you might like to go. I will find something as similar to your desired place as I can."

Castiel glanced briefly at Dean, a little bit of steel in his eyes. If Dean insisted on sharing, he would, of course, but he tried to make it plain to Dean that he would prefer they not.

"You mean like Hawai'i or Japan, or anywhere?"

"The islands you call Hawai'i and Japan, neither are safe. But yes, I could find something similar, but in a location that is safe and which has been untouched.

Bobby broke into a larger smile. "Iffen you don't mind that would be excellent. But I don't want you feeling put out. You feel free to retract that offer if things change 'tween now and then. Your job is protecting Dean, not toting two lovebirds around the world."

Castiel straightened a little and gave a nod. "I am pleased you…recognize that. I will do my best, but make no promises. Two weeks can be a long time what with the upheaval occurring in the world."

Bobby gave a huff of laughter. "Yeah. I know. I'm gonna sit down and write up the, ah, 'requests" the council has for you."

Castiel settled beside Dean on the couch and looked at the article Dean was reading. "I hope I selected interesting topics for you. There were so many to choose from."  


* * *

Dean glanced at Castiel when the angel spoke up, offering to take Bobby and Ellen somewhere else other than the cabin for their honeymoon. He was kind of relieved, especially when Bobby seemed to like the idea, but he was also surprised. He wasn't sure what surprised him more though. The fact that Castiel knew anything about 'romantic' honeymoons or the fact that the angel would have any objections to Bobby and Ellen sharing the private cabin in the first place.

Did Castiel not want to 'share' for the same reasons Dean was a bit reluctant to? Maybe if the look the brief look the angel gave him was any indication. It was almost possessive and sent an unexpected thrill through him and heat pooling low in his belly. Damn, was there something wrong with him for finding that incredibly hot?

Dean focused his attention back on the magazine in his hands. The last thing he needed was for Bobby to see him going all starry eyed or something at the angel. But he couldn't really help the small pleased smile that pulled at his lips.

Well, it seemed like Bobby was going to get a proper honeymoon after all, and Dean wouldn't have to share 'his' cabin. Well... their cabin. His and Castiel's. Yeah, that thought probably shouldn't please him as much as it did either, but again, he couldn't really help it.

When the angel settled closer to him and looked over his shoulder, Dean gave the angel a warm look he was glad Bobby was too preoccupied to see.

_"Thank you. For helping out Bobby and Ellen like this. I appreciate it."_   


* * *

Castiel could see a bit of a smile on Dean's lips and was pleased he had not upset Dean by refusing to share the cabin. He basked in the affectionate look Dean gave him and felt his heart beat a little faster. He wanted to reach out and take Dean's hand. Or to lean over and kiss him. Or to be intimate with him again. But he could do none of those things without revealing something neither of them wished to have revealed to anyone at the camp.

Instead of answering aloud, Castiel answered Dean mentally. _"You are welcome, but I am helping them not just because they are your friends. I am also helping them because I would like the privacy it will offer us while they are gone for an evening or two. I make no assumptions that you will wish to pursue anything, but if you do, the opportunity to do so will be greater."_

Seeing the way Dean looked at him, Castiel gave a slight nod. _"I do not wish to deceive you into thinking I am being solely altruistic. I am also being…hopefully selfish. If you asked, I would of course do it even if my own motives were not intertwined. Being 'selfish' is not a common trait among angels, but it does occur. I have never before been selfish or felt possessive of anything."_ Giving Dean a heated look he added, _"But you are special. In many ways, special. And I very much would like to kiss you right now. I won't, but I would like to."_  


* * *

Dean's eyes widened a little when he 'heard' Castiel in his head. He knew he probably shouldn't be surprised, if the angel could hear him then he 'thought' to him then why couldn't he hear the angel in return? It was still a strange sensation. Was this how it felt to the angel when he talked to Castiel in his head? Not really like hearing a sound but more like simply knowing an answer when you hadn't even asked a question yet. But he could easily distinguish them from his own thoughts.

He couldn't help the pleased grin that spread over his face when Castiel told him some of the reasons he had offered to give Bobby and Ellen a 'proper' honeymoon. It did sound rather nice. A couple of days without Bobby or Ellen around. No one else in camp would bother him or care if he didn't show up for a few days. All that time to spend with Castiel, alone, not having to sneak around.

Yes, that did sound fun.

Not that he was looking forward to getting rid of his friends or something. Boy it sounded selfish when put like that. But he supposed it wasn't all that dissimilar from the reasons why Bobby wanted some time alone, just him and Ellen.

Similar. Not the same. It wasn't like he and Castiel were married or anything.

When the angel went on to explain the 'selfish' reasons he had for wanting to help out Dean felt himself flush a little and heat pool in his stomach. Christ. He felt like some kind of horny teenager. Which Dean definitely wasn't anymore. But still, despite all the sex they'd so recently had, he admitted almost shyly, _"If Bobby wasn't here I'd probably be jumping you again right now."_  


* * *

He saw the slight reddening of Dean's cheeks and decided he liked when Dean's cheeks took on that color. Dean looked so bright-eyed, so innocent, so young and sweet and…delicious. His brow lifted slightly. He had never equated a human with a…taste…before. That was a new concept, but he couldn't deny that it made him think of Dean as delicious, and that he wanted, more than ever, to lean in and capture Dean's lips.

_"Jumping me?"_ Castiel asked, confused. Dean had never jumped on him. Castiel had startled Dean a good handful of times and made Dean jump, but he was fairly certain that wasn't what Dean meant. He cocked his head to the side as his mind tried to fathom the term. _"You mean…having sex?"_ At Dean's concurrence Castiel gave a sage nod. _"I like this, you jumping me. I would like you to jump me again soon._ Licking his lips slowly, Castiel met Dean's gaze boldly. _No harmful thoughts meant for your friend, but I wish he wasn't here so you could jump me now._

Castiel picked up a magazine because he was concerned if he didn't have something in his hands, he would reach out and touch Dean's leg, or his hand. A distraction, even such a minor one would hopefully help keep his mind occupied on something other than being jumped by Dean.

* * *

Seriously, what the hell was wrong with him? The blushing was bad enough, but getting all... coy... and shit. It was embarrassing really. He should probably be ashamed of himself, or at least checking to see if he still had balls. He was pretty sure he hadn't been neutered or something by the demons, but you never knew.

He knew it wasn't that, but it was easier to beat himself up for behaving like a complete love sick girl than...

He was not love sick, damn it.

He should definitely _not_ be thinking that the confused look on Castiel's face was completely adorable. But it was. And Castiel's confirmation that he'd wish Dean _could_ jump him right now, once he knew what 'jumping' meant, and the way he licked his lips, making the fire in Dean's stomach burn hotter and his cock twitch...

Damn it.

Dean looked back down to the magazine in his hands and let out a long breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding. He was _not_ some horny teenager. He was _not_ some lovesick girl. Then why couldn't he stop acting like one around the angel?

It was just sex. Great sex, sure, but just sex. He cared for the angel. A lot. Trusted him. With his life. Castiel said he was not in love with him and Dean agreed with him. He was not in love... If he didn't get a hold of his damned hormones or something he was going to embarrass the hell out of himself or worse.

Dean glanced over at the angel when he saw Castiel reach for one of the magazines. Watching the way his hands moved over the pages. Remembering how they felt on his skin... Dean groaned softly to himself and closed his eyes.

He was so screwed. 

* * *

Bobby had looked up when Castiel sat down beside Dean and Dean and the angel passed looks between them, but Castiel stayed silent. He went back to work on the list of things the council wanted from the angel, shaking his head to himself at the demands. He figured Castiel might well take a look at the list and then toss it aside and he wouldn't blame him at all. They said if the angel was going to live among them, eat their food, then he needed to contribute. Furthermore, since he was here protecting Dean, Dean was potentially a security hazard to the camp, and they wanted the angel to help keep the camp safe. There were a handful of things they wanted for the camp, including some larger weapons that they believed Castiel could easily acquire for them.

Bobby understood. Most had no great love for the angels anymore. Castiel had won some over since he had healed people but when he struck out in retribution he made people afraid again. His speech to the camp had been less than a resounding success as well. Not that it was exactly the angel's fault. The guy was doing his best to be approachable. Truth be told, Bobby had sort of expected the angel to just be an arrogant bastard who didn't do anything or say anything, who just took up space, glowered at them or ignored them, and struck down anyone who got in their way or looked at them wrong. The angel was nothing like he'd expected and frankly, he was relieved. But because the angel was approachable and seemed to try to connect with people, the council thought they could demand things of him. If Castiel had been the sort of angel most of them had expected, Bobby was pretty damned certain they'd be too afraid to demand anything and everyone would simply be praying that the angel left soon.

Hearing Dean's long exhale, Bobby looked up and saw Dean still had a magazine in front of him, but it didn't look like he was reading it. His mind seemed focused elsewhere. He watched Dean as Dean focused on Castiel as Castiel picked up a magazine. Bobby frowned when he saw Dean close his eyes and groan. He glanced between the two men, his eyebrows lifting. …No. There was no way…absol-fucking-lutely no way in hell…

Denial. Bobby could be as good at denial as any Winchester. And he chose to embrace that talent right then, because if his absurd musing of Dean and Castiel being…together…was true, he just didn't fucking want to know. No way, no how.

He refocused on the paper in front of him, refusing to let his gaze return to the two on the couch.


	8. Chapter 8

It had been two weeks since he'd been stabbed in the back and nearly killed. Two weeks since Castiel had spirited him away to the cabin without telling Bobby and Dean had blown up at the angel. Two weeks since they'd made up, Castiel had brought him presents, and... Dean had jumped the angel. Repeatedly. Two weeks and Dean couldn't seem to stop thinking about the time he and Castiel had spent alone at the secluded cabin for a moment.  


  
Dean sighed heavily, irritated at himself for his lack of concentration. He lifted the gun he held, aimed it at the row of cans and bottles that sat lined up on a fallen tree, and pulled the trigger. He missed. Again. The young man growled at himself and had to resist the urge to chuck the entire weapon at the row of targets just to make one of them fall over.

Bobby had led him to what passed for a firing range that morning. Damn the council on whether they felt he was 'ready' for a weapon or not. Everyone in the camp needed to learn how to shoot. Even the kids. In case there was an attack. There were too few people in the camp to leave the fighting up to just a small handful.

The wind was biting cold, like it was nearly every day, but the weather was clear and it hadn't snowed for a few days. Dean had started feeling a little stir crazy in Bobby's cabin, so the older man had agreed to bring him out here. Once upon a time Dean had enjoyed target practice. Today it was only pissing him off.

After all this time he knew it was going to take some work getting used to firing a gun again but that didn't stop him from being irritated at himself. Maybe he could blame some of his horrible aim in the unfamiliar extra weight of the silencer on the end of his weapon. All the guns had to have some kind of silencer on them so their shots wouldn't draw any unwanted attention. But he knew it wasn't that. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that his hands and fingers had been repeatedly broken so many times over the years. Even now that they were healed he still had some trouble getting used to doing things that had been so effortless before.

Or he could just be too damned distracted thinking about that damned angel.

Ok, so it wasn't Castiel's fault. He would probably still be terrible even without the distraction but it sure as hell wasn't helping. It had been two weeks since they'd... well... done anything. Sure they'd kissed some. Pretty much every night once Bobby was asleep, squeezed together in that too small cot that was Dean's bed. They'd even managed to get in some good groping when no one was around. But nothing more than that and frankly Dean was starting to get really horny.

He couldn't decide if it was a good or bad thing that Castiel had chosen this morning to go out on a 'shopping trip'. Going to look for a wedding dress for Ellen amongst other things. It probably would have been worse. Having Castiel close was always a pretty big distraction, but when he wasn't around Dean couldn't help but miss the angel.

Sighing softly, Dean raised the gun again.

* * *

It had been a difficult two weeks for the angel. He was beginning to understand what the humans meant when they termed a difficult time as taking 'longer' to pass than a good time. Time was constant of course and that had always baffled him how humans could perceive the passage of time as not being constant. But he was definitely gaining an inkling of why humans judged time to stretch out longer. He had wanted time and again to fly Dean to the cabin, but every time he tried to arrange it, things seemed to happen to thwart it. Dean was back to work for Zoey, and they hardly took their eyes off Dean, making sure he stayed safe. While he was pleased by their current attentiveness to Dean's safety, that also meant Castiel couldn't whisk Dean away for an afternoon.

If Dean wasn't working, it was meal time. Or he was sleeping. Or Bobby was there. He couldn't very well tell Bobby why he wanted to take Dean to the cabin. Dean was doing better so they couldn't tell Bobby Dean needed to get away. It was all very…inconvenient. He enjoyed the kissing and touching, the 'make-out' sessions as Jimmy called them at night. He definitely enjoyed Dean falling asleep in his arms. It was much better than just cradling his head and singing to him and being invisible and never telling Dean…yes, much, much better. Though he did sometimes worry one of his brothers or sisters might arrive to take Dean away and find them together in bed. There was a time they would probably take him to be reminded of what it meant to be an angel. With the demons taking over so much of the world, he doubted his small infraction of curiosity would be bothered with.

Frustration was not something Castiel had every experienced before. That simply wasn't part of the world of angels. God spoke, his orders were given, and the angels obeyed. If they failed in their task, they simply kept trying until they succeeded. Frustration, though not part of Castiel's experience, seemed to be a primary force in the world of the humans. Everyone seemed frustrated about something. Even though Castiel thought he had infinite patience, it seemed that his desires to spend time alone with Dean was giving him more new experiences and apparently a frustrated angel is a 'cranky' angel, or at least so Jimmy told Castiel when he snapped at Jimmy the other day when Jimmy was trying to explain to Castiel where he might most readily find a wedding dress without going into an area that had once had a large populace.

Since it appeared Castiel was not going to be able to get Dean to himself until Bobby and Ellen were married, he decided to locate a safe place for the two to honeymoon at and to acquire the wedding dress for Ellen. After investigating several small islands, he found one that looked perfect. A nice lagoon. A couple long empty huts. Plenty of fruit and some small animals. Yes, after investigating it carefully and confirming the weather would be good for the next few days, he decided it would be appropriate. He would check the weather again when he was about to bring them to the island. After some consideration, he decided on a backup location of a deserted Mexican beach far from any city or village. He truly hoped the island stayed pleasant and safe for their honeymoon.

That accomplished, Castiel found a few of the items the council had requested: a variety of canned food, a rooster to breed with their chickens, powdered milk, salt and herbs, and vitamins. He would look for other things on the list such as weapons and ammunition another time.

After taking the supplies to the camp and leaving them there, he began searching warehouses of clothing for wedding dresses. He considered telling the council about the supplies he brought, but decided against it. They would discover the supplies soon enough. First and foremost would be the rooster, of that he was certain. By not telling them, he knew he was forcing them to acknowledge his gifts. If they wanted more from their list, they would first have to acknowledge what he'd already provided.

He finally found some wedding dresses and searched through them for a dress that he knew would fit her. He'd studied her form to ensure he could choose the correct dress. According to Dean, Bobby had not appreciated Castiel 'undressing Ellen with his eyes.' He didn't understand, and instead chose to ignore the nonsensical words. Eyes could not undress…yes, simply another human idiom.

Knowing that if he brought a dress for Ellen without bringing an assortment of others in different sizes, there could be ill-feelings or accused favoritism. And people hounding him for more gifts. If he brought six or seven dresses, that should eliminate any problems. Realizing the dresses ranged drastically in size, he decided to make it simple and tossed several styles of white dresses of different sizes into a large box. Ten or twenty dresses should meet anyone's needs. Jimmy seemed to concur so Castiel was satisfied he'd met Bobby's request more than adequately.

He returned with the box to the cabin and was about to go find Bobby and Dean when he heard the barest of sounds from the box. His brow lifted as he sensed what was there. Carefully pulling out the dresses and laying them on the couch, he reached deeply into the box and picked up the half-starved black kitten. Well, he had considered getting Dean a small animal to take care of… 

* * *

Dean and Bobby were making their way back to Bobby's cabin. While Dean had done a little better towards the end of their target practicing, despite the older man's encouragement and reassurances that he would get the hang of it again in no time, Dean was still displeased by his performance. If his dad had been here John Winchester would have been livid at that pathetic display.

Opening the door to the cabin the first thing Dean noticed was that Castiel was back. That brought a smile to the young man's face. The next look that crossed his face however was confusion as his eyes took in the mound of white fabric and lace piled up on Bobby's sofa and overflowing from a large box.

What the hell? That was _way_ more than _a_ wedding dress. While he had tried to explain to the angel once about not 'overdoing' things apparently the lesson hadn't stuck. While Dean had definitely appreciated all the stuff the angel had gotten for him, the gun especially, the magazines, the toys, even some of the candy. He'd tried to explain to the angel that he really didn't _need_ all of that stuff to make him happy.

Yeah, the balloons had been funny as hell, but really they weren't necessary and kind of got in the way. The flowers, again, had been nice and amusing the first time but he really didn't need any more. Most of the stuff, had already been passed around to the rest of the camp. The magazines available to anyone who might want to read them. The balls and other toys passed out to the kids. As Bobby predicted, the women in the camp had really appreciated the chocolate. Dean had kept the gun for himself of course.

He'd thought Castiel had understood... but apparently not. Just how many wedding dresses had he picked up? Did he think Ellen would want to choose the style? Well, maybe, but knowing Ellen he also didn't think she would be too picky. She was pretty practical and probably would appreciate anything as long as it wasn't too gaudy... or had Castiel brought back dresses for all the women in camp? Just how many weddings did he think they were going to be having?

Dean looked at Bobby and wasn't sure whether to be amused or if he was going to have to have another talk with the angel. Already the angel was being surprisingly gracious in fulfilling the 'demands' given to him by the council. But if he kept up like this people were really going to start taking him for granted and abusing his good nature.

By the time Dean turned back to look at the angel, Castiel was pulling something else out of the box. Something black and wiggling. Dean's eyebrows climbed even further towards his hairline.

_"What is that?"_ He asked, even though he already had a pretty good idea what it was. 

* * *

Castiel sensed the two men approaching, but stayed focused on the ball of fur he was lifting free of the box as they entered the cabin. The kitten gave a pitiful sounding cry that was almost non-existent, it was so hungry and dehydrated. Castiel held it against his chest, ridding it of the fleas and parasites with a thought. He saw the two men take in the stack of wedding gowns which looked like quite a lot what with all the fabric used in a single dress and a few of the dresses were…poofy.

Dean's lectures about providing more than asked were prominent in his mind, but he had good reasons for bringing more than just one dress. Dean would probably still tell him he was going 'over-the-top' but when it was just as easy to bring ten items as it was to bring one, why shouldn't he bring more than what was asked for?

"There were quite a few dresses in the warehouse I visited and a large range of sizes. I did not wish to be accused of favoritism, and I did not wish for any of those in camp to be envious of Ellen having a wedding dress. Envy breeds discontent and violence so I brought a variety of sizes. You said the men had plenty of suits to choose from. Now the women have a number of dresses to choose from."

The cat nestled into Castiel's chest, sniffing and hoping to find food as it gave soft mews of complaint. Walking over to Dean, Castiel held out the kitten. "There was a 'stow-a-way' in the box. It will not survive without food and care."

When Dean made no move to take it, Castiel reached out and gripped Dean's wrist, bringing his hand to the small bundle of black fur. He felt certain that the kitten would make Dean feel better about himself and an animal's unconditional love can often mend even the most damaged of souls. "It needs you, Dean."

* * *

As Castiel explained the reason for the mound of wedding dresses he had brought back with him, Dean's eyes traveled from previously mentioned mound, to Castiel, and finally to Bobby. Well, he supposed the angel did have a point. He supposed it could have been worse. The angel could have brought back the whole damn warehouse with him.

But that still didn't explain the little ball of fur that looked like it was trying to burrow into Castiel's coat.

What were they going to do with a kitten? Aside from the chickens and a few other useful farm animals there wasn't anything in the way of pets in the camp. Most people probably thought they were a luxury they couldn't really afford right now. Difficult to pick up and move with. Even more difficult to feed, considering they had enough of a problem feeding all of the _humans_ in the camp already.

Dean gave the angel a cautious look as Castiel got up and approached him, and his eyes widened when the angel held the kitten out to him. Unsurprisingly the kitten really didn't like that particular position and began wiggling and mewling in earnest but Dean didn't reach out to take the small animal. Castiel couldn't be serious. He'd never had a pet before. He had no idea how to take care of it. Maybe someone else in the camp would take pity on it and...

Before he could even finish the thought the angel was reaching for his hand. The little thing was so small it could probably fit in just one of his hands. Enormous green eyes stared at him before sniffing his fingers and then began suckling on one. Dean wondered if it was even old enough to be away from its mother.

At Castiel's words Dean's eyes went from the kitten to the angel and then back again, and he sighed. He reached out and took the kitten and held it against his chest. The poor thing was practically skin and bones. When it started to purr he felt his lips twitch in spite of himself. He was such a huge softie.

_"Just for now."_ Dean told the angel. Scratching behind the kitten's ears and glancing at Bobby. The older man looked way too amused for his own good.

* * *

"That little fluffball is so small, a sparrow might take off with it as a meal," Bobby said his amused smile turning into a grin. "I'll get a box we can put dirt and pine needles in for it to use as its bathroom, cause it's definitely too small to be going out on its own at the moment. Castiel, that kitten needs milk in a feeding bottle, slightly warmed up. Think you can get that?"

Castiel gave a slight frown, searching his memories until he found what Bobby was talking about. "Yes," he said and within a half breath, held out a warm feeding bottle to Dean. "It's cat milk."

Bobby retrieved a thick towel and waved for Dean to sit down with the kitten, and once he had, Bobby draped the towel into a pile on his lap. "Put the kitten down in it to keep it warm. It looks old enough you ain't gonna have to help it pee probably, but we'll watch it." Seeing the look Dean gave him, Bobby laughed. "It's not going to pee on you…and if it does, you've got the towel. Keep the bottle up, keep the kitten from sucking down air. Yeah, that's good. I'll hunt up a box."

Bobby rubbed a finger gently across the kitten's head. "You'll have to come up with a name for it." After smiling at the kitten suckling away at the bottle, Bobby headed out the door in search of a litter box and a box for a bed for it. He knew Dean and Sam had always wanted a pet but their father refused for obvious reasons. He always figured Dean as a dog-person, but the cat would still be good for him, he was sure. Course if the angel let the kitten die, he'd string the angel up. In fact, he'd make damned sure to let Castiel know that Dean couldn't take losing a pet. He'd surely blame himself, no matter if it wasn't his fault.

After Bobby had left, Castiel gave a small sigh. "If I'd known one kitten would get us some time alone, I'd have found a whole litter for you to care for."

* * *

Dean snorted softly at Bobby's observation. It was probably not so far from the truth. The little thing was pretty tiny. He gave a slight nod at the older man's suggestion of a box and pine needles for it to do its business in. It wasn't like they could just go to the store for cat litter after all. Besides, the little thing would probably freeze to death outside in this weather.

The way the kitten was still sucking on his finger, and probably growing frustrated by his lack of lactation, he had to agree it would probably need milk. But where in the world were they supposed to...

Again, before he could finish the thought Castiel produced the very items that Bobby had suggested and Dean's eyebrows climbed nearly into his hairline. Where the hell had Castiel gotten _cat's_ milk? Did he really want to ask?

Still giving the angel a rather bewildered look Dean followed Bobby's suggestion and took a seat on the couch and placed the kitten down on the towel the older man provided. This wasn't so bad he supposed. At least, that was until Bobby mentioned the possibility of the kitten peeing on him and that was _definitely_ not something he wanted to experience. Even if the kitten probably couldn't have _that_ much urine in it... He gave the older man a slight glare when Bobby laughed at his uncomfortable look, but merely sighed again and offered the kitten the bottle once he'd managed to get it to let go of his finger.

The kitten definitely seemed much more pleased with the bottle than his finger and sucked on it enthusiastically. He thought about Bobby's words as he watched the animal feed and gently rubbed its head with his finger. Why did he have to come up with a name? He was only looking after the kitten until they found someone else willing to take care of it. Besides, even if he did give it a name, it wasn't like he could call it.

Dean looked up at the angel at his words and the young man couldn't help but laugh. Castiel did have a point. _"I guess now that we've got the wedding dress all sorted out, it won't be too long now."_ Before Bobby and Ellen were married and away on a honeymoon giving him and Castiel some real alone time. Dean grinned at the angel, letting him know he was looking forward to it.

Finally his curiosity got the better of him.

_"Where on earth did you get cat's milk?"_   


* * *

"I hope it won't be long," Castiel agreed with him as he watched Dean feeding the small animal. He smiled back at Dean, equally looking forward to it. "I located a nice small island that has plenty of fish and food and water and a few abandoned huts. The island has not been occupied for years. I confirmed the weather appears good for the next few days and I'll double-check before I take them there. If the weather ends up being poor, I located a deserted beach in Mexico, but they will have to take supplies with them for that locale."

Castiel's gaze slid from the hungry kitten to Dean's face. "From a lactating cat in Omaha, Nebraska," he answered simply. "The island location is very nice. We could…try it out, confirm that it is a good location to have sex, to sleep, to eat. Since I have promised them a nice, romantic place where they will be safe, I wouldn't be against taking you there to…confirm it. To see if I overlooked anything," he said, heat filling him at the idea of finally getting Dean to himself again.

He wanted to kiss Dean, but the humans here sometimes didn't knock, or they looked in the window first. Getting caught kissing Dean was not on Castiel's desired to-do list. Besides, the kitten needed Dean's attention right now. And it would need to be fed every couple hours. If Castiel wanted the kitten to help heal Dean, then Dean needed to bond with it and it with him.

With an internal sigh, he did not close the distance between them and instead sat down in a chair. "We can, of course, take the kitten with us as it will need to eat frequently."

* * *

Dean smiled at the angel as Castiel told him about the spot that he had picked out for Ellen and Bobby. It sounded great. Probably better than any honeymoon the older man could have taken, well, before. He hoped... well, he didn't want to question Castiel, he knew the angel would never knowingly put his friends at risk. He just hoped the places really were as safe as he thought they were. Though to be honest, nowhere was truly safe anymore. Not even this camp, and Dean knew he shouldn't let himself forget that.

He didn't think the angel was going to answer his question of where he'd gotten the milk, but when he finally threw it out there so matter of factly at first Dean didn't believe him. Then he remembered he was talking to Castiel, and the young man's eyes practically bugged out of his head. Was the angel trying to say he'd milked a cat? How...

No, he didn't want to know. He really didn't want to know.

Without missing a beat Castiel went on to suggest that they 'try out' Bobby's honeymoon spot and Dean couldn't help but laugh then. The absurdity of the discussion was almost too much. The look the angel gave him made heat pool in his stomach even as he still snickered. It was a rather odd combination.

But as much as he wanted to take Castiel up on his offer... it was kind of wrong. After all, considering the reason why he hadn't wanted to share his secret place with Bobby. He didn't think his friend would appreciate Dean and Castiel slipping off to his honeymoon spot to fuck around before he did, even if he didn't know about it.

Still, Dean gave the angel a warm smile to show he appreciated the idea nonetheless.

_"Maybe we can try out whatever place Bobby and Ellen don't choose. I haven't been to the beach in... a long time."_ Dean's smile faded a bit as he remembered exactly when. Sitting on the hood of the Impala, the radio playing inside, while he and Sam drank beers and watched the sun setting into the horizon. They'd just finished a job. Simple poltergeist. Practically a vacation for them. It had been a good day... one of the few...

* * *

Castiel liked that Dean was smiling more. Dean definitely seemed more content, even if there was the underlying tension of not being able to get away and be alone. He wondered suddenly if Bobby and Ellen were likewise feeling that frustration. Bobby spent his nights in the cabin with Dean, not in Ellen's cabin. And Ellen did not spend her nights in Bobby's bed. Maybe that explained why the older hunter was always somewhat cranky.

"The island is definitely the nicer of the two locales. The water is crystal clear in the lagoon and it is teeming with fish and crabs and other creatures. The huts are nice, spacious and in reasonably good repair. I confirmed the mattress in the larger hut was in acceptable condition and that there were no wild animals living in there. There were some birds up in the rafters, which I relocated, and some lizards, but they eat the insects so I left them alone.

"The Mexican beach has some small huts there, just the barest of essentials. Being on land, there is a greater chance of someone stumbling across it, but I believe it is far enough out of the way that the chances of that are very low. I looked for another island, but I did not find another I was as confident in that had the amenities of a lagoon and fruit and a hut and fresh water. And I did not wish to draw attention to myself by looking a great number of places." Castiel smiled at the kitten that was still sucking away at the bottle even though its little belly was round.

"You do know I did not bring the kitten intentionally. It truly was a stow-away." He reached over and ran his finger down its back. "Its fur is so soft," he murmured then sat back in his chair. "Did I do okay with the wedding dresses? I don't know what women find attractive in a wedding dress, though Jimmy made some suggestions." 

* * *

As Dean listened to the angel describe the two locations he'd picked out for Bobby and Ellen he couldn't help feeling a bit envious. He also couldn't deny the angel's idea of 'trying one out' was looking better and better. He had a feeling that was the angel's intent. Sneaky bastard. Well... maybe they could. If they used one of the huts or whatever that Bobby and Ellen probably wouldn't be using. That was way different than sharing the same bed at Dean's 'private' cabin.

Dean chuckled softly.

_"All right. You've tempted me. If you really want to go..."_ He agreed, but going off to one of Castiel's honeymoon spots wasn't going to be any easier than taking a trip to his secluded cabin. When were they going to get a few hours of privacy they could slip out together? Maybe they could take a quick trip while Bobby was asleep one night. They'd have to make sure they were back before the older man woke up.

Damn, why hadn't he thought of that before?

Dean turned his attention back to the kitten in his lap when the angel reached over to pet it. No, he was certain Castiel hadn't brought the animal intentionally. It really was too young to be away from its mother, and if the angel could have brought it back he probably would have. But given how skinny the poor thing was it had probably been on its own for a while now.

It was still sucking enthusiastically on the bottle with seemingly no intention of stopping, and Dean began to wonder if he should take the bottle away soon. Exactly how much liquid could its stomach hold? He didn't want it to hurt itself. What if it threw up? Or peed on him? He wished Bobby would come back. He really had no idea what he was doing.

Castiel's question regarding the wedding dressed drew him out of his worrying thoughts for a moment and the young man glanced at the piles of poofy frills and lace. _"They look good to me."_ He told the angel even though he didn't know shit about wedding dresses either. He didn't think the ladies would be all that picky, and if they didn't like some of them, they could probably be re-sewn or something. _"I'm sure they'll be appreciated."_  


* * *

"Yes, I would really like to go," he said, nodding and thinking back to just how beautiful a place the island was. He would have to get a nicer mattress for the smaller hut there so Dean and he had a comfortable place to have sex.

Furrowing his brow Castiel said, "I'm not certain it is an appropriate thing, an angel providing temptation, but," and he flushed a little, "you tempt me in such ways as I have never felt. Humans have such depth of emotion, something I do not believe angels can experience or fully understand it. Your lives are so short, but you often treasure everything so much more. I know I treasure you more because I know you will be with me for a mere breath of time. …And so long as you are agreeable to these temptations we offer each other, I am as well."

Castiel watched the kitten for a few minutes and could see Dean was looking at the bottle and the kitten's full belly. "I believe the kitten is full. It is probably best to set the bottle aside, burp the kitten, and then it will likely fall asleep in your lap."

When Dean said he thought the dresses would be appreciated, Castiel gave a soft smile. "I hope so."

Turning to Dean, he asked, "You looked…disgruntled…when you returned. You had been looking forward to shooting. Did you not get to shoot? Did someone cause you problems? Or perhaps the gun was not to your liking? I could find you a different gun when I go out next time."

* * *

Castiel seemed quite pleased that he'd agreed to go and he was glad that he'd said yes. He was looking forward to it even. He loved being here with Bobby and Ellen, but it would definitely be nice to get away for some alone time with Castiel.

Well, almost alone time, Dean thought with a soft chuckle, lightly running his fingers over the kitten's head and down its back. Its soft black fur almost tickling.

When Castiel started talking about how Dean tempted him he couldn't help but look up at the angel with a rather seductive smile. It made Dean feel, well, special knowing that he was the first to really tempt Castiel. The angel was thousands of years old, maybe more, and Dean was his first lover.

Maybe he should feel bad or something for having tempted the angel, Castiel had said before that it wasn't something angel's did, and Dean still wasn't sure if that was because it was against the rules or if Angels just had bigger things to worry about, or what. But he couldn't deny that he did like it, and he felt rather possessive of the angel in ways that were probably not very healthy.

Hell, like there was anything about his state of mind that was healthy?

_"I am. Very agreeable."_ Dean reassured the angel, giving him a rather sly wink.

Though he dragged his thoughts back out of the gutter when Castiel told him that he should probably take away the bottle now. At least one of them knew what they were doing. Though he did raise an eyebrow when the angel told him to 'burp' the kitten. Seriously? How did you burp a kitten? He guessed it was a similar concept to burping a regular baby but it just sounded weird.

He carefully began tugging on the bottle, and for a minute he was sure the kitten wouldn't let go, it had such a death grip on the thing. But finally he pulled it free and set the small bottle aside. He wasn't sure if the look the kitten gave him was disgruntled or if it was just gassy. Gently Dean rubbed and lightly patted its back and soon enough it let out a sound that really sounded more like a fart than a burp but he supposed as long as it came out one end or the other it was all good.

As Castiel predicted the kitten settled down pretty quickly after that, turning around a few times to find the most comfortable spot in the towel and curling up. Dean continued to lightly stroke its fur as its eyes closed and smiled when he felt more than heard a soft purr starting to come from the little bundle of fur.

Alright, it was pretty cute, he had to give it that.

Dean was a bit surprised when Castiel asked him about his target practice, and quickly shook his head.

_"No, no. No one bothered us and the gun was fine. Great even. There's nothing wrong with it."_ He reassured the angel, then shrugged slightly. _"It just... didn't really go that well. Guess I'm a little rusty."_  


* * *

The smile that Dean gave Castiel made his toes curl, his wings fluff, and sent a spear of heat through the very core of his being. He was certain his face likely looked flushed. How could a simple smile do that to him? His knees even felt weak, though there was no reason for them to be.

_I've told you already. You're in love,_ Jimmy told Castiel. _So all those reactions are normal. Don't worry about it._

_I'm not worrying about it,_ Castiel protested, feeling more heat in his cheeks. _It is merely different. Observations. Nothing more._

Jimmy gave a bark of laughter and then the impression of shaking his head, but he didn't comment any further.

Pushing away the thoughts of his reaction to Dean's hauntingly sexy smile, he couldn't help but smile himself when the kitten would have none of Dean taking away the bottle. Its small mouth tugged faster and harder at the bottle's nipple as it tried to suckle more milk down as fast as it could. The kitten looked rather annoyed when Dean finally succeeded. He watched as Dean very carefully and gently began rubbing and patting the kitten until Castiel heard the small gurgle-burp. It took only a few moments after that for the kitten to decide sleeping was the next thing on the agenda. It curled up in the towel, its little paws curling and uncurling a few times while its tiny purr vibrated its little body.

Castiel had always liked animals, finding them beautiful creations of his Father. Cats had always been something of a favorite among angels that bothered to take an interest in the mundane. Cats were arrogant, deceptive in their ability to strike viciously and with a speed that was impressive, and they could be very protective of their territory and their families. They acted like they ruled everything and had a right to go anywhere they pleased. They were, the chorus of angels often whispered amongst themselves in amusement, rather like arch angels. Not that they would ever do so around the arch angels, but really, cats and arch angels did have rather a lot in common. Perhaps 'Angel' would be a good name for the kitten, though he doubted Dean would fully appreciate the joke.

Those thoughts brought a new, fond smile to Castiel's lips as he watched the kitten for a moment, for an eternity. He was glad it had chosen to stow away. It would be very good for Dean, and he suspected the kitten would be extremely well taken care of, perhaps to excess. But that was okay if it brought such light into Dean's eyes.

He glanced up at Dean, reassured that Dean was pleased with the weapon and glad to hear that no one caused Dean any problems. He did not want to have to stress to everyone in the camp once again just how unacceptable causing Dean problems would be to Castiel.

When Dean said he was 'rusty' Castiel shook his head. "You do not appear 'rusty' to me. I could acquire some oil for you if you think that would help rid yourself of the rust," Castiel offered straight-faced and waited for Dean to realize he was teasing him. He wasn't certain it was a very funny joke, but then, Uriel was the funny one of his unit. He just hoped it made Dean smile a little. Then he wondered how he could get Dean to give him that sexy smile again. He liked that smile. A lot. And liked the way it made him feel, even if it was a little strange and confirmed Jimmy's assessment that he was in love with Dean.

* * *

Dean hadn't missed the color that had rushed to the angel's cheeks and couldn't deny that it turned him on. A lot. It made him all the more eager to get away with the angel. Hell, maybe they could even slip away tonight. They'd waited quite long enough in Dean's opinion.

Being with Castiel was like an addiction. Just that one time together with the angel and he was hooked. Couldn't seem to get enough of him. Touching, kissing, how it had felt to be inside of him... But it was more than just the physical, and maybe that was why it was so damn addicting.

It was the way Castiel looked at him, like he was the most important thing in the universe. It was how the angel did so much just to make him happy, like bringing him flowers, balloons, and kittens. Yeah, majorly chick-flicky and if anyone else had tried it Dean might have punched them or something for treating him like a chick. But Castiel was just so earnest, and eager to please, and endearing... It made Dean want it more. Want him more. To never give it up even though one day he knew he would have to.

When the angel eventually left it was going to be hard. To lose one more thing that he... cared about. Maybe it would be more than Dean could take and finally push him completely over the edge. But even knowing this he couldn't give him up. He wondered if that made him even more screwed up or less.

When Castiel offered to get him some 'oil' to help with his rustiness at first Dean blinked in surprise and then a bark of laughter escaped him before he could help it. Disturbing the kitten sleeping in his lap if the shifting and sound the little animal made was any indication but it settled again pretty quickly.

Then of course Dean felt a little bad for laughing at Castiel's misunderstanding. Certain things, like figures of speech, often seemed to go over the angel's head, sometimes with hilarious results like now. But he didn't want the angel to feel bad though for not understanding, after all it wasn't his fault really.

_"I didn't mean it literally. It's just a figure of speech."_ Dean explained, forcing himself to stop snickering. _"Sorry."_  


* * *

To see Dean happy made Castiel feel like he did when he was flying for the simple joy of flying. It filled every nook and cranny inside of him with a feeling of warmth and happiness. It made his stomach flutter and made him smile, whether he meant to be smiling or not.

He was pleased to see Dean's surprise at his comment about the oil. He found he liked surprising Dean. It was…precious to him. That look of startlement, of confusion, generally followed with snickers or laughter. It made him practically glow with satisfaction that he had succeeded in making Dean happy, that he had been 'funny' and made Dean laugh. It was hard being 'funny' when many human jokes simply eluded his understanding. Still, he was determined to try.

Dean's laughter and shaking body disturbed the kitten and it complained rather loudly, but then burrowed deeper into the towel as if it were to dig deeply enough, it would be sound proofed and protected from any annoying events. Dean looked a little guilty at disturbing the cat, then helped the animal settle back to sleep.

Tilting his head, Castiel could tell Dean felt more guilt than at just waking the cat. He saw the apology in Dean's emotion-filled green eyes as Dean tried to explain about figures of speech. Castiel flushed a little.

"I understand 'rusty' is a figure of speech. I was trying to 'tease' you but I'm not very good at humor. Would I have done better to make an allusion to the Wizard of Oz and suggested that you could not be rusty because you surely already have a brain?" Castiel asked then shook his head. "No. Perhaps I should have acquired some…WD-40, is that not correct? And handed it to you. That would have been more funny, wouldn't it have? Human humor is hard," he said with a bit of a sigh. Yes, handing Dean some of that WD-40 lubricant would have been more funny. "Though when I think of lubricant, WD-40 is not what first comes to mind," he added, giving a slight smile and meeting Dean's eyes unashamedly.

* * *

When Castiel began to explain that he hadn't misunderstood, that he'd merely been teasing him, at first Dean looked at him a little doubtful. Then again, that was something a _human_ might say in order to cover up something embarrassing. Castiel wasn't human, and he'd never done anything like it before. If he or Bobby corrected him about anything, not matter how embarrassing, the angel merely took it in stride. Accepting whatever explanation the humans gave, sometimes asking further questions, but never denying. So he must be telling the truth.

That was a bit surprising in itself. Castiel _teasing_ him. Dean couldn't help but grin. Maybe the angel was learning quicker than they thought. Dean couldn't help but snicker at Castiel's further attempts at humor. He wasn't laughing _at_ the angel however and he was pretty sure, or at least he hoped, that Castiel understood that.

_"No, no, it was good. It was funny. My fault for underestimating you I guess."_ Dean said with another laugh. _"Guess I should know better than to do that."_

And that couldn't have been more suggestive unless he was naked.

He really shouldn't be thinking like that. Of being naked with Castiel right now. The angel's comments about 'lubricant' and the way Castiel was looking at him right now was making him really glad he had that big thick towel in his lap or he'd really embarrass himself when Bobby came back.

_"Maybe we should bring some 'lubricant' with us when we visit the beach. Tonight?"_ Dean offered. 

* * *

Castiel could tell Dean was a bit unsure if he really had been teasing him, but his further attempts at humor seemed to convince him he was. He could tell he'd surprised him him once again with the admission he was teasing him. He wasn't sure if Dean was laughing at his additional jokes, or was laughing because Castiel was teasing. It didn't matter, so long as he was laughing.

The angel's gaze slid from Dean's eyes to drift over his body, admiring the way he moved as he laughed, as he appeared completely at ease and relaxed. If he wasn't careful, he was going to rouse the kitten again. At Dean's suggestion of lubricant for that evening, heat practically flooded Castiel and he wanted to simply grab Dean and take him to the island immediately. He wanted to feel Dean's hands on him, caressing him, touching his wings, his face, his nipples, his dick. He licked his lips and his gaze became as heated as his body felt.

"Yes. Tonight would be very good," Castiel practically growled.

Lifting his hand he swished the drapes closed and then rose to his feet. He wanted to kiss Dean. No, he needed to kiss Dean. Only Dean could put out the fiery need he suddenly felt. His gaze stayed fixed on Dean as he stepped closer. He could hear the beat of Dean's heart and the way it jumped. He could hear the way Dean's breath caught, as if it were locked in his chest. Jimmy's heart was likewise pounding as he crossed the few steps to reach Dean. He started to lean down, to take that kiss he so desperately needed, when there was a sudden pounding on the door.

Faster than the human eye could follow, Castiel placed himself between Dean and the door, ready for a fight.

"One of you idgets get the door! My hands are full!" Bobby yelled as he kicked the door a few more times, knocking as best he could.

The tension filling Castiel immediately drained away and with a flick of his hand, opened the door. Bobby nearly stumbled in, carrying a basket, a couple bags, and a box filled with pine needles and some dirt he'd gotten from the greenhouse. "How's it doing? Where is the little rascal?" Bobby asked as he set down the box with the dirt somewhat close to Dean's bed, then brought over the basket filled with soft scraps of rags. "We'll have to get it a bigger bed when it grows some more, but for now I thought this would be good, all nestly and comfy. I got it a plastic ring off a one of the water jugs." He held up a blue plastic ring. "And I got a couple scraps of fur that we can make into little toys for it to bat around. I'll see if I can't track down some big feathers that we can tie together and put on a string for it. You come up with a name for it yet? We know if it’s a boy or a girl kitten?"

* * *

The intense heat in the angel's eyes ignited something inside Dean and he was instantly transported back to the time the two of them had spent in that little cabin away from everyone. Every touch. Every kiss. The way Castiel had looked at him. The way the angel had touched him. The way they had made each other feel. Everything. At the time it was like he couldn't get enough of it. Even after all they had done it had still seemed like only a small taste. Ever since it had been a craving that he couldn't seem to put out of his mind very long.

Now, the way Castiel looked at him, hungry and almost desperate it made Dean's insides melt. It made his heart race and his breath catch in his throat. It made the craving explode into full out need that was almost painful in intensity.

As Castiel stood and approached him his heart beat faster and harder. His lips felt dry and ached, remembering the angel's kisses. Anticipation burning under his skin as his lover leaned in close...

At first Dean didn't even hear the pounding on the door over the pounding of his heart. All he knew was that Castiel had stopped. That he could no longer feel the angel's breath against his face, and did not have the crush of lips against his own like they both craved. A choked sound escaped his throat before he could stop it and if he could speak Bobby probably would have gotten a earful of sailor worthy curses to greet his return.

Yes, they definitely needed some alone time tonight. Or else he might just go insane. For some reason that struck Dean as extremely funny, but at the same time he didn't laugh.

Then the door opened and the young man's eyes widened when he saw all the stuff the older hunger was carrying into his cabin. He'd expected the box of dirt and stuff but the rest was a surprise. Something about it and the way Bobby referred to the 'little rascal' and as he went on about making toys for the kitten it kind of reminded Dean of an over indulgent grandfather spoiling the grandkids. Not that he and Sam had ever had that, but he'd seen it on TV.

Bobby liked to pretend he was all gruff and stuff but he was really a huge softie, and Dean had a feeling the new adopted member of the 'family' was going to be pretty well spoiled. The thought made Dean grin and almost, _almost_ , forget his sexual frustration.

Dean shook his head, and really why did _he_ have to come up with a name for it? But when the older man asked about the kitten's gender Dean looked down at the little bundle in his lap and shrugged. He hadn't exactly had the chance to check out the plumbing yet. It seemed kind of rude to do so now that the thing was all snuggled in and comfy. Especially given how annoyed it had seemed at being woken up before.

He looked at the basket Bobby had brought over then down at his lap again wondering if he should move the kitten. It would probably be more comfortable in the basket, and Dean wouldn't have to keep sitting here for god knew how long. But still he found himself reluctant to move it. 

* * *

Castiel watched as Bobby…gushed…over the kitten. The box it could use. A basket for it. Toys for it. He could retrieve toys for the kitten. There were plenty of stores that had not been raided that held such things.

_No,_ Jimmy said, stopping him. _It's a human thing, wanting to make toys for their pets. The cat won't care and Bobby will feel useful and good about himself that he made something the kitten loves to play with._

_I understand,_ Castiel said then paused. _No, I really don't._

Jimmy burst into laughter. _Castiel, don't worry about it. Let Bobby and Dean and anyone else who wants to, make the kitten toys and beds and food, or whatever. Just keep the kitten healthy and everyone will be happy. And the kitten will likely be the most spoiled living thing in this camp._

_That is a good thing? I thought to be spoiled was a bad thing._

_It all depends. In this case, it's a good thing,_ Jimmy reassured him.

Castiel gave a small nod to himself. Jimmy had been quite accurate in most cases when he was dealing with humans so he accepted this as another human truth and quality. No, he didn't fully grasp it, but most things about humans he didn't particularly grasp well.

Studying Dean, he could see tension in the young man and it took a moment for him to recognize it was like the tension he, himself, felt over not being able to kiss Dean. When Jimmy identified it as sexual frustration, Castiel immediately denied it. Angels simply didn't—couldn't—feel such a thing. More likely it was because as an angel he was accustomed to either getting what he wanted and doing what he wanted, when he wanted, or being given orders to do something, which he did posthaste. Being forced to wait because of…appearances…was a new concept to him.

He sensed Dean's annoyance at having to name the cat, and his debate about whether the kitten would be best on his lap or in the basket.

"It is a male kitten," Castiel offered. "Dean, it is likely more comfortable in your lap, feeling your warmth, the beat of your heart, than it would be in the basket. The basket will be ideal for when you are not here. And surely you have many names you could think of to name the kitten. Any of those musical bands you like so well might make an ideal name. Or the name of a mythical creature. Or perhaps simply naming it after one of its attributes, such as 'jet' or 'black' or 'soot' would be appropriate. Perhaps when it plays, it will do something to earn it a name. There is no rush, but as it is your kitten, you should come up with a name for it. You will, one day, be able to call it by its name aloud, I promise you."

* * *

Dean looked up when Castiel spoke and felt a little bad for getting annoyed with Bobby about the whole kitten naming thing. Even though the angel was probably the only one who'd picked up on his annoyance in the first place. Castiel always seemed to know what he was feeling, despite his claims of not understanding human emotions. But he didn't think he'd given any outward signs of being annoyed, or at least he didn't think the older man had noticed while he was more focused on the kitten. Still, Dean shouldn't be getting annoyed over something as little as that. The last thing Dean wanted was to take out his many 'issues' out on his friends.

Especially when most of his annoyance and frustration was probably coming from being really horny at the moment. That sure as hell wasn't Bobby's fault. Ok, maybe it was when the older man had chosen that particular moment to knock on the door and cock block the angel yet again, but it wasn't like they could have done much anyway. It was really Dean's own fault for not thinking of a simple solution to their problem like, oh, slipping out quietly at night while everyone was sleeping for some alone time. So he really had no one to blame but himself for that. Sure, it might be weird if Bobby woke up or something while they were gone and started asking questions about where and why they had gone. But waiting until Bobby was off on his honeymoon getting some until they got some obviously wasn't working, and its not like Bobby was going to be away on honeymoon forever. So, yeah, stupid on Dean's part.

Then there was the whole issue of the reminder, like he could ever really forget, of his disability. He couldn't call the kitten by any name he might give it, so why should he come up with a name? Even though Castiel claimed that he may be able to be healed, by one of the higher up angels or something, Dean still didn't hold out much hope for it. But really, what did it matter? The kitten would have to be called something. Whether he came up with the name or someone else did, the results would be the same. So what was the point getting bent out of shape about it?

Maybe it was more than that. Maybe it was by naming the kitten it somehow cemented the fact that it was _his_ and not someone else's. His responsibility to look after the animal. To make sure it had food, and water, and cleaned up after it. To give it attention and affection. Sure, he probably would have done that anyway if Bobby decided to claim the kitten, or Castiel decided to play surrogate mommy to the animal. But at the same time... it was different.

And look at the 'wonderful' job he'd done taking care of everyone else that had been his responsibility...

Dean looked down at the kitten in his lap, purring contently, and then back up at Bobby and Castiel who both seemed to be waiting expectantly for him. He sighed softly and nodded, then tapped his finger to the side of his head a couple of times. He was sure Bobby would understand what it meant. To Castiel he said, _"I'll think about it."_  


* * *

Castiel gave a nod. "I'm certain you will devise a fitting name for the kitten. Creativity is not an angel's most positive attribute. That is another thing that God gave to humans that he gave us little of. Though it seems the longer I interact with humans, the more creative my mind seems to get."

Although he said it innocently enough, at the end, Castiel caught and held Dean's gaze for a long drawn out moment. Then it was over and Castiel turned to Bobby. "What else did you bring in those bags? More kitten toys?"

Bobby gave an embarrassed chuckle. "Okay, so maybe I went a little overboard."

He dumped one bag and out rolled some scrunched up foil, some wadded paper, some balls of twine, a couple folded paper bags, an empty folded down box that had seen better days, a couple scuffed up balls that were missing chunks out of them, some mismatched woolen socks with holes in them, and other various odds and ends.

The other bag he unpacked, stacking up a couple baggies of jerky and a small number of cans of cat food, and a broken and abused comb. "The cat food was buried back in the warehouse. Sometimes people just grab cans without bothering to read 'em. We hung on to them since they were already brought up here. You never know when you might need something, after all, but ain't had no call for them, obviously. I got clearance to take them for our newest camp member when we start it—him, on solid food, though this is all there is, these ten cans. And he'll be teething so I got some jerky for him to chew on and play with. We can soak it in water so it's not too dry for him. These are just smoked, no salt on them, no seasonings, and need to be used up in the next month. Should be safe for the kitten to eat. And I got this." Bobby held up a slingshot. "It's for you, Dean. That little kitten can start eating things like fresh birds and squirrels before too long and this slingshot will be perfect for you to take them down with. And Castiel can make sure the critters you nail are parasite and disease free, at least until the kitten gets big enough to hunt on its own."

Bobby looked at Castiel. "Help me put these toys in this box, would you?" Bobby asked as he started unfolding the box.

As soon as Bobby had the box set up, with a wave of his hand, the cat toys shifted from their places scattered across the couch to end up in the box. Bobby put the box at the end of Dean's bed and then moved the basket to an end table.

"Can I hold it for a little bit?" Bobby asked, staring at the little lump buried in the towel.

* * *

It was said innocently enough. Thank god. Though the look in the angel's eyes seemed anything but innocent as Castiel's gaze locked with Dean's. Making the young man's breath hitch and his heart race yet again. God damn him. Was the angel _trying_ to kill him with the worst case of blue balls he might have ever had in his life?

_"If you make me come right here and now, you're gonna be sorry."_ Dean warned the angel with a mild glare. But if he said he didn't like Castiel's teasing, he would be lying.

Thankfully Bobby seemed more interested right now in the kitten than anything going on between Dean and the angel. It was quite impressive the amount of... junk... Bobby had collected for the animal. The kitten was bound to have a field day with all of it once it felt like playing.

Just how many people had Bobby told about their newest camp member, and did that have anything to do with the amount of junk the older man had brought home? Maybe this was just the tip of the iceberg of how many treats and toys that was going to be donated. Did it really matter? No, he supposed not. Having pets was probably something a lot of people in the camp missed. Including Bobby.

After all, Dean couldn't remember ever remember a time visiting Bobby's home, as a kid or adult, and there hadn't been at least one dog running around the salvage yard. Sometimes people even dropped off strays there. Puppies or other mutts that were unwanted and Bobby would either keep them or find homes for them later after taking care of them for a bit.

So he supposed it really wasn't much of a surprise how the older man was gushing over the little kitten now. Nor was the request to hold the kitten all that much of a surprise when Bobby asked, and Dean merely chuckled and nodded. The kitten might be annoyed at being woken up yet again, but it would get over it, Dean was sure.

It was easy enough to scoop the little bundle of fur up, despite how deeply it had buried itself into the towel, the thing could practically fit in one of his hands after all. As predicted the animal gave a surprisingly loud and annoyed sound at being moved, blinking its large green eyes owlishly at them all, but it didn't struggle or try to bite him or anything as Dean held it out to Bobby.

Once Bobby had taken the kitten Dean decided to check out the slingshot the older man had brought for him. He'd raised an eyebrow at it when the older man had shown it to him, but he supposed given his abysmal aim this morning with the gun Bobby figured he should start out with something a little less dangerous.

He examined the wood it was made from, tested the strong elastic. It was actually pretty well made. Definitely not a child's toy. Feeling a little evil Dean picked up a bottle cap off of the coffee table that had been left there at some time. He put it in the sling, aimed it, and let it fly squarely at the angel's backside while Castiel was busy cleaning up the cat toys. 

* * *

Castiel was pleased by the response he got from Dean to his 'innocent' comment about creativity. He couldn't help that he found he deeply enjoyed teasing Dean in such a fashion, even if he was teasing himself right along with him. His only response to Dean's threat was a slight smirk, a smirk he'd picked up from the other man in the first place.

Bobby could have practically rubbed his hands together with glee. He hadn't realized just how much he'd missed having a critter around to look after. He was a crusty, hard-nosed old hunter, yet the little ball of fur just lifted his heart and his spirits higher than they'd been in a long, long time. The loud cry of annoyance erupting from the kitten at being disturbed made Bobby laugh.

"You'd think it was a full grown cat for the lungs it has on it!" Bobby said and cradled the kitten against his chest. The kitten licked its mouth a couple times, gave a big yawn, then snuggled against Bobby's chest and gave a soft little purr. Bobby just knew the smile on his face was probably a great big shit-eating grin. If he was this thrilled over having a little ball of fluff in his arms, the rest of the camp could do with some animals, too. He knew the argument against pets was valid. They really didn't have spare food, but he knew he'd readily offer up any portion of his meal to feed that silly black kitten. And if he would, so would others. And a couple dogs…the council had been debating about that, if dogs wouldn't be good for patrols and being guard dogs and the like. And cats would keep the rodents out of the food stores. Yes, it was definitely time to revisit the topic at the next council meeting.

"I think I might need to borrow Mr. Noisy for the next council meeting. I forgot just how good it felt to take care of a small animal in need. I think the camp would benefit—the moral of the camp would definitely benefit—by having some cats and dogs around. The cats can guard the food and the dogs can guard the camp and the kids." Stroking the little kitten he gave a happy sigh. "Yeah, I really think it's high time we had something happy and all uplifting and ooey-gooey, heart-string pulling for the people of this camp."

Castiel was somewhat surprised by Bobby's reaction but humans seemed to get rather odd around any baby, no matter the lineage or species. All babies made humans go 'awwww' and completely lose their heads. Was the kitten cute? Yes, of course, but he didn't understand the almost magical quality kittens seemed to have on most humans of any age.

Castiel was pondering this as he retrieved a few errant cat toys when he felt the impact of metal stinging his butt cheek as it impact there. Twisting his head, he eyed Dean who held the sling shot and saw Bobby was trying not to burst out laughing. Dropping his gaze to the bottle cap on the floor, he looked at it, then at Dean, then back at it. Lifting his gaze, he gave an almost evil smile to Dean and flicked one finger, sending the bottle cap flying through the air to lightly smack Dean right between the eyes.

* * *

Dean yelped at the sudden unexpected sting on his forehead, his hand coming up instinctively to rub at the spot, only realizing after he did so what had caused it. The same bottle cap he'd shot at the angel now lying 'innocently' in his lap. Dean glared a little at the angel's anything but innocent smirk.

_"Smart ass."_

He was a little distracted from planning his 'revenge' when Bobby burst out laughing, disturbing the kitten's nap once again if the accompanying wail was anything to go by. He wanted to maintain his annoyed glare at the angel but it was rather difficult with the smile that kept trying to pull at his lips no matter how hard he fought it.

Finally Dean sighed and gave in, grinning like an idiot as he lobbed the bottle cap back at the angel, foregoing the slingshot this time, but knowing he probably wouldn't actually hit him now that the angel wasn't distracted. That wasn't really the point anyway. It was the principle of the thing.

_"Later."_ The young man 'warned' the angel, already thinking up ways he might get back at the angel once they were alone on that beach Castiel was so excited about visiting. Maybe they could go swimming in the surf and he could dunk the angel without warning. Or stuff some sand down his briefs... not that they would probably be wearing any most of the time.

Well, he had plenty of time to think up some pranks to pull on the angel. In between thinking about how he was going to ravish him tonight. 

* * *

Not only had Castiel achieved surprising Dean, but had irritated him, in a good way, Castiel was fairly certain. Dean was 'glaring' at him, but there wasn't the least bit of wrath in that glare.

Castiel responded to Dean's comment telepathically. _I don't understand. Why are you calling me an intelligent donkey?_ When he saw Dean about to try to explain to him, a brief smile passed over his lips and his dancing eyes made it perfectly clear he was teasing.

Bobby burst of laughter, accompanied by the annoyed kitten apparently pleased Dean, and it pleased Castiel as well. He wished suddenly that Bobby knew about Dean and himself and that he could sit down next to Dean, kiss him, and drape his arm over Dean's shoulder. But in truth, it would be for the best if no one knew about his and Dean's evolving relationship. Angels had no Achilles heel…but Castiel recognized Dean could be one for himself at this point and that would be another reason the relationship would be fully forbidden.

At Dean's 'later' comment, Castiel's brow furrowed. He wasn't quite certain what Dean was indicating so he simply looked at Dean and gave a slight nod, but he hoped it was promises of what they'd be doing together. _"Yes. Later,"_ he told Dean, his wings practically shifted of their own accord. Heat rippled through him and his wings stretched and gave a single, solid beat before resettling. Though they were invisible to the humans, the wings did cause a small stir of wind, causing papers to flutter a bit and introducing a fresh, almost innocent scent to the cabin.

"Since Bobby is taking care of the kitten for the moment, are you hungry?" Castiel asked Dean. "We could walk over to the kitchen—what did you call it? The messy hall?—to see if they have anything to snack on until dinner.

* * *

Dean snickered a little when Castiel asked him if he wanted to go to the "messy" hall. Well, the place was probably pretty messy at times, so he didn't bother trying to correct the angel this time. Since Cas was so amused by teasing him, he could figure it out on his own this time.

He wasn't all that hungry, at least not for food, but Dean nodded anyway. Getting up from the couch and scratching behind the kitten's ears when he passed by Bobby. The animal once more doing its best to burrow its way into the layers of the older man's shirts. The expression on the older man's face made Dean wish he had a camera.

Dean smiled as he grabbed his coat and pulled it on, since it was still pretty damned cold out there, and headed outside with the angel in tow. He headed towards the mess hall, even though Dean really had another destination in mind.

Looking around and seeing no one about, or at least no one paying any attention to them, he grabbed Castiel's hand and tugged the angel quickly into the narrow space made by one of the cabins and a nearby shed. Once they were pretty much hidden from view he pushed the angel up against the wall and did his best to make Castiel's brain melt with the heated kiss he gave his lover.

* * *

After Dean nodded his agreement, he watched every movement Dean made, appreciating each step, the way he pet the cat as he passed, and each twist of his hand and arm as he slipped into his coat. The way the light played over his face and shone in his hair was mesmerizing. He was practically entranced by Dean and if Dean hadn't indicated for Castiel to follow him, he might have stood there, slack-jawed, looking like an idiot.  
Castiel followed after Dean, finding the crunching snow beneath his feet was more pleasant than he had ever really noticed before. He put a bit more force into his steps just to get that little extra 'crack,' pleased every time he did.

Though Dean seemed focused on the kitchen, Castiel's gaze wandered about the camp. He could hear the murmur of talk, ranging from reminiscing, to reading aloud, to playing games with children, to having sex…Castiel paused and listened for a moment, then turned his attention on Dean, wishing he could whisk Dean away.

When Dean deviated from the straight path, Castiel just followed along. Perhaps he wanted to get out of the wind, or walk more in the sun. Castiel didn't care. If it meant they took longer to get to the kitchen, that was fine. He could ogle Dean more readily. He was startled though when Dean grabbed his hand and yanked him into the shadows.

The next thing Castiel knew was Dean's mouth against his, and Dean's body was pressing and sliding against his. His back was trapped against the shed and he moaned as he let Dean's tongue into his mouth. Wrapping his arms around Dean, he tugged him closer, tangling his tongue with Dean's and wishing they were skin-to-skin. He was startled by just how fast the heat coiled in his stomach and pooled in his groin. His cock thickened and hardened in mere heartbeats and he pressed his need against his lover.

"Dean," he keened softly, unable to get enough of the man, and began kissing him more furiously. 

* * *

Dean kissed the angel like he was a drowning man and Castiel was his last breath of air. His lover's mouth opened to him, it always did, and Dean moaned into the kiss as the angel's arms wrapped around him, pulling him closer. He practically melted against the other man, his hand traveling up the angel's arms and broad shoulders. His fingers cupping the back of Castiel's neck and tangling in his thick dark hair. The kiss deepened, heat flooded through him, and despite the cold he suddenly wished there were far less layers of clothes between them.

Fuck. This was crazy. They'd already made plans. They only had to wait a few more hours, then they could go and be alone together. Nice tropical weather. No need for clothes, where they could do anything they wanted, and no worries that anyone could walk by and see them together at any second.

Instead here they were, not out in the open but not exactly hidden either, rutting against each other in freeze your balls off weather. They had already waited two weeks to be together again. Was a few more hours really so long?

Apparently it was, at least to his downstairs brain which seemed to be the only one in command right now, as he slid his thigh between the angel's. Feeling the hard press of his lover's erection as he bucked against him and he knew Castiel could feel his as well. And he couldn't stop kissing the angel. The soft desperate noises Castiel made, the way he said his name, it just made everything burn hotter.

Clearly they were going to have to come up with a better system than this, because two weeks, or more, between sex wasn't going to cut it. Though maybe the sexual frustration was good for something since as he was rubbing harder against the angel he got an insane idea... fuck this really wasn't the time or the place but he really wanted to...

_"I want... I want to try..."_ Dean started but didn't bother to finish, he just dropped to his knees. Not really thinking about what he was doing, if he did he might start to have second thoughts, as he pressed his mouth to the angel's erection straining through the trousers he wore. Rubbing his cheek against it, feeling how hot and hard it was. Inhaling deeply, Castiel's unique scent stronger, sharper, reminding him of that day in the cabin, the scent of sex all over both of them. It made his mouth water and his hands slid up the angel's thighs and started working at his belt and fly. 

* * *

Feeling Dean's leg between his own giving him much needed pressure, it practically sent Castiel into a tailspin. His wings unfurled, though still stayed invisible, but he stretched them up, then curled them forward, as if to protect them both from wind and prying eyes, though the invisible wings actually did nothing to hide them. The fingers raking through his hair, sometimes catching and tugging a bit sent prickles of excitement and shivers through the angel even as he kissed Dean back with a desperation almost foreign to an angel. He wanted this man so badly, in ways he had no words for. If Dean's friends were not here, he knew he would steal Dean away and hide him someplace safe, someplace beautiful, where Dean could live out his life with no cares and no worries. Where they could make love every day, lie in each others arms, and kiss each other breathless…

Castiel felt his face color just a bit at all the thoughts he was having. Was it this way for all angels? Was this why they were forbidden to show themselves and interfere in human lives? Because the temptations the humans presented were a hundredfold and angels just were not designed to deal with everything humans brought out in them. Angels were simple, obedient warriors. The worshipped God, loved him, and guarded Heaven and Earth, keeping evil from overwhelming their gates and breaking loose…which they had obvious fucked up from here to Hell and back. Literally.

His fingers drifted over Dean's face, touching and feeling every slight tensing of muscles, and the way Dean relaxed. So beautiful. He wished he could give Dean back his world, and his voice, and bring him nothing but happy memories. The man had had such a hard life, it didn't seem fair. Of course, many people had hard lives. Castiel didn't pretend to understand all the machinations behind it and why the world was the way it was. Nor why their Father let the world become what it had become.

_Free choice._ He knew it had a lot to do with free choice. For the humans…and maybe for the angels. If he had free choice, in this instant, he knew what he would choose.

Dean's 'words' brought Castiel back, and the loss of pressure of Dean's lips against his own and the twisting of their tongues together ceased. He made a soft sound of complaint. He didn't understand what Dean wanted, what he wanted to try, and was about to ask when Dean sank to his knees. "Why do you kneel before me?" Castiel asked, baffled even as Jimmy tried to shush him.

When Dean's mouth slid along his cock, Castiel's eyes grew wide and he shuddered at all the sensations filling him. Then it was Dean's cheek and Castiel felt his hips thrust just a little, pressing harder against Dean's warmth. He watched Dean's face closely as Dean began to work at his belt and pants and zipper.

"Choice, Dean," Castiel whispered. "You are in control. You only give what you want to. Only take what you want to." Castiel combed his fingers through Dean's short locks. "And stop if you need to. We can always try again later. But…it wouldn't hurt to tell me what I am and am not supposed to do. Do you want me to undo my pants?"

* * *

Castiel's words surprised him a little and they made Dean's hands pause for a moment in his desperate fumbling. He looked up at the angel as his lover's fingers carded gently through his hair, the sensation so comforting it almost had Dean purring in contentment. Dean nodded in understanding but then shook his head slightly at Castiel's question.

_"Let me?"_ He asked. If he was going to do this, or at least try to do this, he needed... he needed to be the one in control. His hands shifted upwards, grasping the bottom of Castiel's shirt and tugging it free from his trousers. Giving Dean access to hot skin as his palms slid under the shirt along the firm planes of the angel's stomach.

_"Let me..."_ He repeated as he leaned forward and kissed the angel's exposed flesh just underneath his navel. His tongue darting out to trace along the well defined muscles, sometimes darting into his lover's belly button as his hands settled once more on his waistband. He unbuckled the belt, moving slower this time, his hands more sure as he undid and unzipped his lover's pants. His lips began to move lower as he started to tug the trousers down.

His breathing grew heavier. He licked at the soft strip of skin where his lover's thigh met his body when it was exposed. Nipping the tender flesh gently and then sucking on the spot. The thought of leaving a mark there on the angel's skin thrilled him more than he thought. One hand gripped the angel's upper thigh while the other gently palmed his lover's hard cock through his underwear. Feeling how hard, how hot, the flesh was. Feeling the thin material begin to grow a little damp as he rubbed his thumb across the head of the angel's cock. Imagining what he would taste like...

Dean opened his eyes and looked up at the angel. His eyes locking with his lover's as he hooked his fingers in the waistband of the shorts and slowly tugged them down as well, freeing the angel's cock. His fingers circled around the thick column of flesh, stroking it slowly, feeling the angel's muscles tense where he'd rested his other hand once more on Castiel's hip to steady him.

His choice... He watched as a bead of wetness gathered at the tip of his lover's cock and he slowly leaned forward to lick it away. His tongue slowly playing around the angel's crown while his fingers continued their gentle stroking. 

* * *

Castiel was more than willing to let Dean take the reins since he wasn't entirely certain how all this was to go. When Jimmy started to explain, Castiel told him not to, that he wanted to be surprised. He was glad to see Dean's hands had steadied and the man seemed to be growing surer of himself.

With his shirt pulled free of his pants, he could feel the cold air brush over his bare flesh, not that the cold bothered Castiel. Though when Dean's hands brushed over that same flesh, Dean's touch nearly burned and Castiel's muscles flexed and tensed in response. The tender kiss to his stomach made something inside the angel warm in a different way, made him want to grip Dean's shoulders and lift him up, and hold him close as he planted an equally tended kiss to Dean's lips, and jaw and cheeks.

The warm breath, followed by the wet touch of Dean's tongue over his flesh shifted that warmth into heat of another kind. He made soft sounds when his lover's tongue slipped into his navel, time and time again, squirming a bit under Dean's ministrations. Castiel wouldn't have noticed Dean was undoing his pants if Dean hadn't stopped kissing him and repeated his words once again. Even as Dean unzipped his pants, excitement began to fill Castiel, excitement and anticipation. He watched with rapt attention as Dean worked his pants open and Dean's mouth moved toward the angel's groin. He loved the touch of Dean's tongue, the sucking of his mouth at his flesh, and Dean's touch…he had to bite back a groan even as his wings fluttered restlessly as Dean cupped him then rubbed his tip. Castiel's breath caught as he watched, unable to look away when their eyes met.

His cock was exposed to the cold, but Dean's hand quickly encased it, rubbing it, turning it harder even as Castiel struggled not to thrust against the stroking pleasure. Then Dean's tongue was licking away the pearly drop and teasing his crown. This was what Jimmy had suggested Dean was going to do before in the shower but ultimately hadn't.

_Yes,_ Jimmy said, _so I'm going deep. Enjoy it. And try to stay quiet so as not to embarrass both of you._

After confirming he would stay quiet, he focused his full attention on Dean and concentrated on enjoying everything that was happening between them and the electricity that raced through his nerves. He wanted to make sure he noticed every last detail. Slowly, he let his wings appear, but carefully kept them from glowing. 

* * *

The intense look of concentration on Castiel's face while Dean was licking the angel's cock almost had the young man laughing. Anyone else might have felt a little uncomfortable, or intimidated under the intense scrutiny, but Dean found it amusing and endearing. He hadn't even gotten started yet and already Castiel was looking at him like... He wasn't quite sure what reaction he'd been expecting from the angel, but at least his amusement helped him relax a little more and he smiled up at the angel as he let his tongue swipe over the sensitive tip of his cock again and again, flicking in the slit.

Dean could still remember his first blow job, and how blown away he'd been by the whole experience, even if the girl who'd done it hadn't been all that experienced either. He and Castiel had done more than this already. Hell, he'd fucked the angel. But at the moment somehow this seemed more intimate. Dean certainly wasn't as inexperienced as the girl had been. Far from it. But this was the first time he had done this because... he wanted to... not because he was forced to.

He wanted Castiel to enjoy it. Dean wanted to enjoy it too.

Nervousness mingled with desire in his stomach, and he kept his eyes glued on the angel to make sure that the former did not win out over the other. The appearance of Castiel's wings did not surprise him anymore. It seemed they were going to make regular appearances every time they were together like this. Dean took it as a sign that the angel was enjoying himself. Maybe it was a sign of the angel starting to lose control, just a little, as Dean gave him pleasure and he kind of liked having that kind of control over his lover. That he could make Castiel feel that way. That he was the only one who ever had.

For a time that was all Dean did. Using his hand on the angel's shaft while his mouth and tongue played around the sensitive crown. Getting used to the feel and taste of his lover in his mouth. He had a feeling if this was all he did, Castiel would enjoy it and not complain in the least, but Dean wanted to do more. So he opened his mouth and took the head of the angel's cock inside. Holding him there for a moment, sucking slightly and stroking him gently with his tongue before a he took a deep breath and let his lips slide further down his lover's shaft.

He kept going until he felt the thick head at the back of his throat and that's when he felt the first real stirrings of panic and froze. He could almost feel rough hands fisting in his hair painfully, shoving him down, choking him. 

* * *

Sometimes, even with the best of intentions of wanting to watch everything Dean did, sometimes, the pleasure made his eyes half-close and small sounds slipped from him. Dean's hand was warm and callus free, giving strokes that were both soothing and stimulating. His mouth and tongue were…perhaps blasphemous to even think it, but they were akin to Heaven. They were warm and loving and tender and sent feelings shooting through Castiel that he simply had no names for. Time seemed to stop, time seemed to only exist for them. It was not that Castiel wanted them to stand as such forever, but to spend eternity with this human, in his arms, that was becoming a more and more attractive thought. He wondered if Dean felt the same, if Dean would want to spend forever with him. Would Dean still feel the same about him if he were human? If he could not protect Dean? If he could not take Dean away to warm and private cabins. If he could not heal those in need?

Castiel refused to examine how he himself would feel, becoming human.

Instead, he returned his focus to the one on his knees in the snow, to the one who was giving of himself that Castiel might feel pleasure as no angel had. Dean opened his mouth wider then, taking his crown fully into his mouth, sucking on it and making Castiel struggle to hold still, struggle to keep from moving. His wings shifted restlessly, but he held still, letting the soft sounds in his throat escape into the shadows.

Then Dean took him in even deeper, so deep that Castiel felt the tip of his cock brush the back of Dean's throat. His knees softened even as his eyelids slid shut and his wings quivered. He rested his hands on Dean's head, carding his fingers gently through Dean's hair. But even as he did so, he felt Dean become motionless and heard his heart begin to pound furiously. Dean was frightened, scared, concerned…Castiel sifted through the explosion of emotions he felt rolling off of his charge.

It was too much like where he had been. Castiel got the distinct sense of past fears rearing their heads, trying to drag Dean down and away.

"Shh-shh-shh," Castiel soothed gently. "Come, Dean, stand up. Kiss me. You've done enough. It has been wonderful and if you ever wish to do more, I would readily agree." He stroked his fingers through Dean's hair and along the side of his face. "I would never force you, Dean. If it is not what you want, then the pleasure is lost to us. My lips would deeply enjoy pressing against your lips, and out tongues could battle, and I could wrap you in my wings to keep you warm," he coaxed, but he did not try to help Dean up, unsure how he had been forced, unsure what would make Dean uncomfortable and more fearful. So he offered what peace and comfort he could and hoped it would bring Dean out of his fears.

* * *

It was too much. Too fast. He hadn't had a panic attack like this in weeks, and he'd almost forgotten how bad they could be.

Images of past abuse, committed by countless random demons... and his own brother... flashed like a gruesome kaleidoscope through his mind and he was powerless under the onslaught. Wave after wave of memories, pain, humiliation, hopelessness, shame, and more pain washed over him, spilling over whatever dam had held them back, and he felt like he was drowning in thick black tar. He couldn't see. He couldn't hear. He couldn't feel. He opened his mouth to scream, but no sound emerged...

The light touch to his hair, his face, the comforting words didn't register at first. But then all of a sudden it was like the bubble that had been blocking everything out burst. Dean jerked back quickly, almost too quickly and lost his balance where he knelt on the ground, but there were strong hands there to steady him. Steadying him. Not trapping him. Not trying to force him to continue.

His eyes snapped up, but all he saw was Castiel. Warmth flooded through him as the angel's touch soothed and comforted. Pushing back the darkness and the memories, and for the moment the young man felt too relieved to feel ashamed.

He was still shaking too much to stand, so instead he leaned forward again. Pressing his forehead against the angel's stomach as his arms came up around Castiel's hips. Just holding on until the tremor's passed.

_"Sorry..."_ Dean knew the apology was unnecessary, but he still felt he needed to say it. 

* * *

Castiel felt something in his chest twist when Dean pulled away. The look on Dean's face was near heartbreaking. This man had endured more than anyone should have to and Castiel wanted to demand "enough" and ease all the horrible memories and feelings overwhelming the young man. All he could do though, was offer Dean his soothing touch and his strong arms.

When Dean's gaze snapped to his own and he could see the roiling emotions practically tearing the young man apart, he gave Dean a simple smile and continued to gently caress his cheek. "You're safe," he soothed. "With me, you'll always be safe."

As Dean leaned against him, he cradled Dean's head to him, feeling the way Dean trembled in his arms, against his body, as he felt the staccato hot breath of his lover against his belly. His brow furrowed when Dean whispered his apology in his mind. "Shhh, there is no need to be sorry. Sorry for what? For evil done to you far beyond your control to stop? Don't be silly. Now, though, now you can do something. You can deny the evil a further foothold. You can tell those terrible memories that they will not control you, that you are no longer Evil's puppet. You are safe in my arms, in my presence, and you are in full control of your own life. You will beat those memories back, you will learn to defeat them in <i>your</i> own time, at <i>your</i> own pace. That time is not yet upon you and that is perfectly okay. What took years to happen will not disappear in mere days or weeks. You should not berate yourself or take blame. When you are ready, the strength that you need will be there. For now, let me add my strength to yours, and know you are not alone, Dean."

Castiel gently loosened Dean's tight hold on his hips and pulled his pants up as he got to his own knees, forcing the hard erection to fade. He enjoyed the pleasures of the flesh but the healing of the spirit was far more necessary right now. He wrapped his wings around Dean, protecting him from the cold and from everything outside of the two of them. He pressed his forehead to Dean's and smiled warmly at him. "As I told you, I am happy with what ever you chose or are able to give. There is no censure in me for you, and there should be no censure in you for yourself, either. Your presence makes me content. I need nothing else. Though…I would very much like a kiss when you feel ready to offer one to me."

* * *

Castiel's words and touches washed over him like a soothing balm, easing the ache in his mind and spirit. He began to relax in the angel's arms, as the pain in his heart, and the shame over his failure began to fade once more. In spite of all the horrors he'd suffered, despite knowing that as much as Castiel wanted to the angel might not be able to keep his promises, he felt safe. Dean took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and gave himself over to the safety and comfort that his lover offered.

It was a strange feeling. His father had taught him he should only rely on himself, and perhaps a select few allies for support. But in the end, he could really only rely on himself. He had to be the strong one. It was his job to look after his brother, so he always had to be strong. No matter what happened. No matter how bad things got. It was his job to be the strong one.

For a long time he had believed that. For a long time that belief was the only thing that had kept him going. But that world was long gone. His life had been destroyed twice by Azazel. First, when the yellow eyed demon had killed his mother, ripping his family apart, and setting them on a path that would forever damn them all. Second when Sam... in an effort to save him... had truly damned him, and the rest of the world along with him.

Dean had nearly given up completely... technically he had given up the first time he'd tried to kill himself, but even that escape had been denied him. Without Castiel, Bobby, and Ellen he knew he wouldn't be able to go on.

Yes, these moments made him doubt himself and his ability to cope with the evil that had been done to him, especially by the one he'd trusted above all others. But it also reminded him of how far he'd come already. To feel safe again, to trust again, to... love... again. He never thought he'd feel that again, but he felt it with Castiel. Not alone...

Maybe he would find that strength again one day. But for now he would borrow the strength the angel offered.

He was a little reluctant to let go of the angel, but they _were_ more than a little exposed out here like this. Even though he wasn't actively sucking Castiel off, he was still on his knees, and the angel still had his pants around his knees. So when the angel pulled out of his embrace, Dean didn't protest. He didn't really expect Castiel to kneel as well, but Dean closed his eyes, a soft sigh escaping his lips, when the angel's wings wrapped around him. A feeling of warmth and peace flowing through him as the ethereal feathers sheltered and caressed him, further pushing back the darkness that had tried to drown him.

Dean couldn't help but smile a little when Castiel asked a kiss from him, whenever he was ready, and he didn't hesitate giving it. Tilting his head to the side and closing the small distance between them as he wrapped his arms around the angel's shoulders. There might not have been a great deal of passion in the kiss, the old memories were still too close for that, but Dean still poured all the feelings of love and contentment into it as he caressed the angel's lips with his own. 

* * *

Castiel smiled against the warm press of Dean's lips. He hadn't been at all certain Dean would even be able to kiss him considering how fear had paralyzed him. Listening to Dean's heart rate, it had certainly slowed and all sense of panic seemed erased, or at the least, re-buried.

Wanting to soothe his charge, tenderly, Castiel's hands roamed over Dean's body. He made no effort to slide his hands under cloth, though he would have enjoyed caressing that warm flesh, but he didn't want to bring more bad memories to the surface. He made certain that the brush of his fingers never restricted Dean's movements. Even his wings, wrapped around him, he held there lightly. Dean could push them away if they felt too confining or suffocating, though Castiel found it hard to imagine that wings of any angel would feel troubling to anyone, angel or human alike. The wings shone with God's touch, they rippled and fairly breathed with His Holy Grace.

Their tongues wrestled and battled, though the battle was more near a dance that anything like war. Neither seemed to have a need to dominate. Both spent time exploring each other's mouths, stroking their pallets, the other's tongue. Castiel's fingers paused on Dean's back, digging in ever so slightly and a soft groan escaped him.

_"You are precious to me,"_ he told Dean. _"Precious in a way nothing else has ever been nor likely will ever be again."_ He wanted to make Dean promises, promises that once Dean's soul had moved on to Heaven, that they could be together, but Castiel wasn't sure if Heaven's Gates would stand against the army of darkness led by Dean's brother. The human race had fallen and angels had been unable to stop the onslaught. In Heaven they were more powerful, but even so, Castiel was beginning to doubt that the demons could be stopped.

He shook off the shadow of dark thoughts. Faith would get him through. Would get them all through.

_"When we go to the beach, to the island, I would like to try what you did. I would like to experience…tasting…your cock. If you are amenable to that idea. If you are not, that is, of course, okay._ "

* * *

The kiss seemed to go on for a long while and it, along with the angel's gentle touches, continued to sooth him. When they finally broke apart, Dean allowed his forehead to drop to rest on Castiel's shoulder, unwilling to pull away just yet from the angel's warmth and the comfort the other man's hands and the faint brush of the angel's wings gave him.

He felt sort of drained by the near panic attack even though it hadn't been nearly as bad or lasted as long as some of the ones he'd had before. But then the whole day had been kind of stressful, from his pathetic display during target practice with Bobby, and now this. Emotional overload. He should know better than to push himself too hard, too fast, but then again if he thought like that he might have never kissed Castiel that first time.

Dean knew he'd always had a bad habit of jumping into situations with both feet, without really considering the consequences, and the fact that apparently hadn't changed after everything was actually kind of comforting. Even if the results weren't really what he liked.

But it hadn't been bad at the start. In fact, he'd really liked it. He'd loved Castiel's reactions, and he wanted to try again. Sometime. Hopefully without the freaking out part in the end.

He 'heard' Castiel's voice whispering their way into his thoughts and found himself smiling a little despite how sappy the angel sounded. Though Dean would never admit it, he rather liked it when the angel got all sappy on him. Though the angel offering to suck him off definitely produced a feeling stronger than 'warm and fuzzy' when Castiel offered it.

The beach, right, he'd almost forgotten about that.

_"Sure, we can try it."_ Dean agreed a little cautiously. He still wanted to go, he just wasn't sure if he would be up to the kind of romp they'd been planning before. But he was already feeling a lot better so he didn't want to completely rule it out either.

Guess he'd know once they got there.

Dean pulled back to give the angel a warm smile and brief kiss before sighing a little reluctantly.

_"We should probably go to the mess hall now, you know, before Bobby figures out we're not there and sends out a search party or something."_   


* * *

"I would imagine he is still quite busy with the kitten and has barely missed us," Castiel said, licking his lips as if to capture that last taste of Dean's kiss. "We don't have to go to the messy—the mess hall if you're not hungry. We could go to Ellen's and get alcohol. We could go to the car pool and you could show me what you've been working on."

Getting to his feet, Castiel pulled up his pants and zipped and buttoned them shut then offered Dean a hand up. "If you would rather we can go…well, anywhere that is not rife with demons. We don't have to go to have sex. If you just wish to go see something, to have a change of scenery, I will gladly fly you wherever you'd like," he said, wrapping his arms around Dean's waist and pulling him close. He leaned in and gave Dean light kisses.

_"See what you started by tugging me into this all but hidden passageway? Now you've made me hungry for the taste of you. Your kisses are like…potato chips. You can't have just one."_

He couldn't deny how much he liked having Dean in his arms. Dean was right of course. They did need to step back out before someone stumbled across them or came looking for them. He finally stopped kissing Dean and looked into his moss-green eyes. "I have often watched people dance. You should teach me how to dance. It looks interesting and…fun. I would like to experience more human fun. For now, let us go search out chocolate and coffee. Or cake…no, pie…you like pie. Pie and coffee. Perhaps the mess hall has some available, and then we can move on to do whatever else you'd like to do. I'll admit, I am growing rather fond of coffee." He smiled as Dean and finally released his hold on Dean's waist. "I am depending on you to show me all the wonderful human things that I have never experienced before."

* * *

  
_"You're probably right."_ Dean agreed with a small laugh. Bobby was probably still far too busy cuddling that poor kitten to death to think about them much this soon. Still, probably best not to push things. Someone else could easily pass by and a stray glance their way wouldn't hide much. It had been really stupid for Dean to drag Castiel back here in the first place, but, well, like most things he hadn't really thought it through before doing it. Acting on instinct and following his downstairs brain rather than his upstairs one.

Some things never changed, apparently.

Dean took Castiel's offered hand, letting the angel help him up, and started dusting the snow off his jeans while he thought about his lover's offer. It was probably best they didn't just disappear in the middle of the day like this. Someone would notice. Besides, they were already planning the outing to the beach tonight.

Not to mention he couldn't really think of anywhere else he'd want to go. This place, even though it wasn't really anywhere safer than the rest of the world, had sort of become home to him now even in such a short period of time. A little strange maybe considering he'd never really had a home before, unless one counted Bobby's place which had kind of acted as a home base they routinely returned to.

But now Bobby was here, and Ellen. The Impala too though Dean hadn't really taken a good look at her yet, just brief glances at her when he worked at the motor pool, not even removing the tarp that had been thrown over the car to protect it during the harsh winter months. The memories associated with that care still too raw and painful. He knew he would have to face them sooner or later. Maybe he would soon.

And of course Castiel was here, though the angel would undoubtedly go wherever Dean went. Even though he and the angel weren't really welcomed by the rest of the people who lived here, this place still felt more like home to him than anything else had in a long time. Though Dean wondered if he would always feel like there was a piece missing from his soul at the same time, no matter where he was.

That big 'Sam-shaped' piece that felt like a gaping wound inside of him even now. Even though he hated the man. Hated Sam for what his brother had done to him personally, and the whole world in general. Still that hole remained. Because the only time he had ever truly felt 'at home' was when he had his little sasquatch of a brother sitting beside him in the Impala. But that Sam was gone. Practically dead. The man who had replaced him was not his brother. Maybe not even human anymore.

Dean shook himself out of his thoughts, realizing he'd been lost in them for probably too long considering the look Castiel was giving him. He gave what he hoped was a reassuring smile to the angel.

_"Pie and coffee sounds great."_ Dean replied, leaning in to give Castiel a brief kiss before taking his hand and leading the angel back out of their little hiding place. Of course dropping his hand once they were out in the open once more. Dean shivered a little when a cold gust of wind hit him almost as soon as they resumed their aborted walk towards the mess hall, tugging his coat a little tighter around himself to ward off the chill. 

* * *

Once again Castiel wished he could go into Dean's mind and see what it was that took Dean away, that put him in that unhappy place he so often dwelled in. He could only sense that it had to do with the past and perhaps family. Sometimes Castiel wished he could simply take Dean to Heaven so that Dean might be forever happy, at least until the demons challenged the gates of Heaven. Dean was of course not the first person he'd seen suffer. The world was as filled with them now as it had even been. But few had been tortured at the hands of demons for so long. None had kin who were directly responsible for the demonic invasion. Although Dean should see he should not anymore blame himself for Sam's actions than any angel should blame themselves for Lucifer who made the first demon.

He considered counseling Dean about such, but Dean had seemed to push away whatever dark clouds were corrupting his thoughts and feelings. Best to let the darkness rest for now. When he saw Dean shiver, he opened his wing and wrapped it around Dean, keeping it invisible but allowing it to protect Dean from the wind and to brush Dean now and again. The first time it did it appeared to startled Dean but Castiel merely smiled at him and tightened his wing momentarily, letting Dean feel it and feel the warmth and love the touch of an angel could offer.

Reaching the mess hall, Castiel let Dean enter first then followed after, feeling a small warmth inside himself knowing that Dean cared about him, that Dean was his. Not terribly angelic, but he couldn't help it. Dean affected him like no other.

Although there wasn't any coffee, there were packets of instant cocoa one of the teams had found. Looking through the snacks that were set out were granola bars and crackers and something called animal crackers, but no pie. Seeing the hint of disappointment on Dean's face, Castiel disappeared, returning before anyone except for perhaps Dean had even noticed he was gone. Boxes of small tarts were suddenly stacked against the wall.

"I could not find pies, exactly, but I felt these were similar enough to cheer those in camp. There are many flavors, but I brought extra of the apple tarts," Castiel said quietly to Dean and walked up to a box and extracted two tarts, one for each of them. "There is some instant coffee on the shelf back there if you would prefer that to the cocoa, assuming the people here are agreeable to that."

* * *

Honestly Dean wasn't all that surprised when they reached the mess hall and there wasn't any coffee or pie available. He would have been more surprised if there was. Both were real luxury items, and if there _were_ any it would have been one hell of a coincidence... or just Castiel being a know it all again. At least there was hot chocolate, and unlike instant coffee, it didn't taste like liquid crap.

As he took one of the packages and ripped it open he refused to think about how instant cocoa had been one of Sam's favorite drinks as a child. When Sam was a toddler Dean had been able to make his brother hot chocolate as a treat during cold winter months easy enough with an electric kettle available in most motel rooms, or just really hot water from the tap if there wasn't.

It was one of the first 'foods' he'd shown his brother how to make himself when he was a little older and Sam seemed to like it even more. Mostly because it was one of the few things the six year old boy was allowed to make 'himself' with Dean's supervision of course. It was probably one of the reasons why Sam had always liked those frou-frou flavored coffees so much. Once Dean had started drinking coffee, black like their father, he didn't like hot cocoa so much. Too sweet. But he wasn't going to say no to it now.

Dean sighed and shook his head, as he stirred the hot water and powdered cocoa together in his cup. He said he _wasn't_ going to think about it. Damn it.

He barely registered Castiel's sudden departure and return, but he did notice the sudden appearance of the boxes of fruit tarts courtesy of the angel. He grinned at the angel, a little mystified, just how far Castiel went to try to make him happy. He would have been fine with just the cocoa but as always the angel went beyond the call of duty, risking... god knows what... just to bring him something pie-like to cheer him up. It was mind boggling, and frankly, a little scary. While the angel had agreed to fetch certain supplies for the camp if he had the opportunity, Castiel had also stressed how dangerous it was to be flying around all the time. How it might draw the demons notice.

If anything happened to Castiel... over pie or fucking instant coffee...

Dean shook his head. _"This is fine. Really. I'm sure everyone will appreciate them."_ He said indicating the stacks of tarts. He knew that probably wasn't true. Sure, some people would probably appreciate Castiel's efforts, but most would probably keep looking at the angel with the same fear and distrust even as they ate the little deserts. _"I appreciate it."_  


* * *

Castiel met Dean's gaze and spoke softly in his mind. _The others want nothing to do with me. I do not do this in an effort to ingratiate myself to them, for they matter little to me. They fear me, as they should. They hate me…and perhaps they should hate my kind. It was our fallen brother Lucifer who first created a demon from a human soul. Nor did my kind expect the demons to be a particular challenge when they arose and we reacted slowly, for this was not the apocalypse prophesied."_ He gave Dean a small smile. _"I brought many because humans can be vengeful with jealousy. If I had only brought enough for you and I, it would give those of the camp more to wag their tongues about, more to find fault with me about and it was no more difficult to carry that number of boxes as to carry a few tarts."_

Retrieving some hot chocolate that proclaimed it also had marshmallows in it, Castiel mixed up the instant drinks, frowning a bit and the strange little puffs of sugar that were apparently the marshmallows. He sat down at the table where Dean sat, next to a wall and somewhat back in the shadows.

The angels were still somewhat baffled as to how the prophecies could be wrong. God's words were never wrong, and that was what the prophecies were. God had not given tales of large periods of time in human history. Even with His Son, little was known until He came and the events were then recorded. Dean might well be a man with a divine destiny that had not yet been revealed to any. In the future, perhaps Dean's tale would be told. Castiel felt a sudden flush at the thought for if Dean was a man to be remembered in the works of His Father, then surely Castiel's and Dean's…interest…in one another would likely come to light. Realizing that was arrogant of Castiel to think such a thing, that what was occurring here and now would likely not be noted even if Dean's way was destiny. It would be future acts…

Giving a small shake of his head and rustle of his wings, he forced such ridiculous notions away. If Dean had a destiny, so be it. If Castiel was even mentioned or remembered, it would be as nothing more than Dean's protector for a time. More likely Gabriel would be hailed and recalled for he was Dean's savior from the grip of the demons.

Dean was staring at him, and he was staring into the hot chocolate. He gave Dean a slight shrug. "Forgive me, my mind was elsewhere. Even angels can become distracted by pointless random thoughts." After giving the hot chocolate a final stir, he opened the fruit tart's wrapper and bit into the pastry. It was overly sweet but did have real apples inside of it. It would likely be better warmed, but it wasn't terrible. Like the hot chocolate, it was likely woefully different from what fresh hot cocoa and apple pie would have tasted like, but it was still human food and he tried to savor the tastes. It really only mattered that Dean appreciated his effort. Reaching across the table and lightly touching Dean's sleeve he gave a nod. "And I should thank you. Knowing that you appreciate these small tokens pleases me greatly."

Tilting his head he added telepathically, _"And if we were not in the presence of others, I think I would be kissing you right now._ "

* * *

Dean nodded a little as Castiel explained his reasoning behind bringing enough of the little fruit tarts back for everyone. A part of him wanted to contradict some of the things Castiel was saying. After all, not everyone was afraid of him, and some of them really did appreciate what the angel was trying to do for them. Bobby and Ellen for one. Zoey and Kent too probably. But for the most part, Castiel was probably right. Wasn't Dean just thinking something similar, after all?

It was complicated, that much was for certain. Dean had no real desire to defend the actions of the people here, especially when a lot of them showed the same kind of fear, or even hate, of him that they did for the angel. It was his brother leading the demon army after all. Not to mention that the only reason why Castiel was here was because of him. He knew all too well where Castiel was coming from. It probably _was_ good that most of the people here were afraid of Castiel. Dean certainly hadn't forgotten how he'd been attacked before.

He wondered briefly what had been done to the men who'd attacked him. Were they still recovering from what Castiel had done to them? Had they been otherwise punished by the people here? Or were they out walking free right now? Dean had never asked. He wasn't sure he wanted to know.

At the same time he wanted to try to explain to Castiel that not all humans were like that. But, Castiel probably already knew that. The angel understood a lot more about humans than they really gave him credit for. Sure, some things still confused or surprised him, but for the most part he understood and he was learning. Quickly.

Dean couldn't help but stare a little at the angel who was currently staring into his hot cocoa like it held all the answers to the universe. He gave Castiel a small smile when the angel finally noticed his regard and apologized. He certainly couldn't get mad at the angel for becoming lost in his thoughts, considering how often Dean did the same. If the angel's 'pointless random thoughts' were anything like Dean's...

He sighed and took a sip of his cocoa. It was still way too sweet, but it was good. Castiel seemed to be enjoying it as well. Ever since Ellen had forced breakfast on him the angel had been much more willing to try different kinds of food and drink. The looks of surprised wonder that crossed the angel's face every time he tried something new always made Dean smile. Kind of like when they were having sex... though now probably wasn't a good time to think about that.

As though reading his mind, Castiel's mental declaration about kissing him made the young man grin in spite of himself.

_"I was just thinking that."_ Dean admitted. Actually, he was thinking things a little naughtier, but again not the time or the place. But tonight... yeah he couldn't wait. 


	9. Chapter 9

Castiel had spent the afternoon with Dean. They had looked in briefly on Zoey and Kent, then on Ellen, before returning to Bobby's cabin. The small kitten was nestled down in the basket, sleeping peacefully. Bobby had the basket on the desk beside him as he was reading through some of the many notes and translations that Castiel was performing for him. Castiel refilled the bottle of milk for the kitten and handed it and the basket with the kitten to Dean. Castiel sat down with Bobby and reviewed with him the translations, discussing some of the finer points of certain languages and how he decided on which word to translate it to if the word had several meanings.  


  
Dinner came and went, just the often had game stew, this time with some corn and garlic mixed in. Fresh bread and butter, along with a small dollop bit of sweet cream custard for dessert and a bit of wine for anyone interested.

Somebody brought out a guitar and there were some sing-alongs which Castiel, of course, didn't know any of the words to, or how to sing with his human voice. Ellen had joined them and insisted they stay for at least a few songs. Then she encouraged Castiel to attempt to sing the refrains. He tried but when he apparently misquoted some of the lines, coupled with his inadequate singing, Dean nearly fell off his chair, his face contorted with amusement. Ellen finally stopped encouraging him, for which he was glad. They walked the perimeter of the camp, occasionally stopping to kiss now and again when they were in a fairly hidden area.

Upon their return to the cabin, the kitten was awake and playful, and Castiel watched as Dean played with the young cat for quite a while. After the play, they fed the kitten yet again, and this time Dean insisted Castiel feed the kitten, so he agreed, but only for a few minutes, then made Dean take it back. Castiel did not need a cat bonding to him. Dean was the one with the need. The kitten seemed quite clear on what the pine needle and dirt filled box was for and made proper use of it, scattering dirt all around the box in its efforts to cover its deposit. Castiel waited for Bobby to raise his voice over the mess, but he didn't seem put out, which surprised the angel.

When Dean went to bed early, he made it clear for Castiel to wake him after Bobby was soundly asleep and they'd go to the island. Once Dean was asleep and Bobby was paying him no mind, Castiel took off to the island and silently checked out the smaller hut away from the big hut that would be Bobby and Ellen's honeymoon get away. The weather was perfect, and Castiel made sure Dean's and his hut would be adequately comfortable for the evening.

With everything in order, Castiel returned to the camp, to Bobby's cabin and waited for the time to pass.

When Bobby finally fell asleep and started to snore, Castiel decided he would make sure both the kitten and Bobby would sleep very well for at least six hours. Any loud noise or danger would rouse them, but otherwise, neither would awake to discover Dean and Castiel gone. Next he went to Dean's side and flew them both to the hut on the island where he gently shook Dean's shoulder.

"We are alone," Castiel said, licking his lips, hoping Dean would want to kiss him.

* * *

Dean was having a good dream. Though that wasn't much of a surprise anymore, considering he almost always had good dreams when Castiel was around. Still it was never something he took for granted any longer, considering for a long time he was certain he'd never have good dreams again. For a long time all he had was nightmares, whether he was asleep or awake, and anything 'good' was merely a reminder of everything he'd lost.

At the feeling of the gentle warm hand on his shoulder, Dean slowly blinked his eyes open. For a moment thinking that he was still dreaming. The room was not Bobby's cabin. The smell of salt water. The sound of waves. It definitely hadn't been what he'd expected to wake up to. But Castiel was there so it had to be a good dream right?

Then Dean remembered their plans and a grin broke out on his face and he chuckled softly at the hopeful look the angel was giving him.

_"Afraid I would change my mind?"_ Dean asked teasingly, not all that upset at the angel 'whisking' him away without even bothering to wake him up first. Especially when, as Castiel put it, they were alone and Dean could do this.

He reached up, allowing his fingers to brush tenderly across the angel's cheek before sliding around to bury in Castiel's soft hair. Pushing himself up on his elbow as he tugged the angel down, their lips meeting halfway.

 

Castiel felt a warmth fill him, the warmth he was growing accustomed to when he thought of Dean. Dean's fingers in his hair felt good. He wrapped an arm around Dean's waist and pulled him closer. "The weather is beautiful. The island is beautiful. You are beautiful," Castiel told him mentally as their tongues warred gently with one another. "I want this to be special for you," he continued, loving how his human tasted, how his human felt under him, close to him. "This place. This now. I want it to be a place you will always keep in your heart. I want it to be a place I will keep close to myself as well. I want this to be perfect for us. For these next hours, nothing and no one but us and this island."

When they finally broke the kiss, Castiel didn't release Dean's waist. "Bobby and the kitten will be asleep for at least six hours. This time is ours and ours alone. Anything you want of me, you can have. If you wish only to lie in my arms in the sun on the beach, or to swim in the sea, or to never leave this bed and make love until we must return…or we could stay here, together, for the rest of your days, if that is what you ask of me. I would give you that. I would hide you away forever, keep you selfishly for myself." Castiel gave him a loving smile. "Even if that isn't the most angelic of thoughts, I sometimes permit myself to imagine it."

Rolling onto his back, pulling Dean over on top of him, he looked up into Dean's face, lightly tracing a finger along Dean's cheek. Mentally he counted the pale freckles he could see running over the bridge of Dean's nose. Somehow they were perfect, like everything else about this man. He was kind and gentle, even if he were still broken, he was mending. Slowly but surely he was finding himself and finding his strength again in Castiel's care. That made Castiel pleased on more levels than he cared to admit. Dean would never consider himself perfect, because he was certain Dean measured perfection in a different way than Castiel. Perfection had nothing to do with flaws or lack of flaws, of righteousness or being free from sin. Perfection for the angel was the perfect balance of right and wrong, hope and dreams, belief and acceptance of what was and what could never be. Dean was all of that, though his hope and dreams were still faded and tattered. Castiel hoped those too would heal, given time. "What is your wish, Dean? Tell me."

* * *

Dean couldn't help but smile at the warm words whispered into his mind as he and the angel kissed. He wanted to tell Castiel that this, everything, was already special to him. These last few weeks with Castiel, for a long time he never thought he'd ever feel _happy_ again, much less what he felt when he was in the angel's arms. It was like a dream that Dean was still sometimes afraid he was going to wake up from any moment. That it really had all been just some kind of elaborate hallucination, all in his head, and one day he would come back to reality, back to the hell that had been his life for so long.

He knew if that was the case whatever little bit of sanity he might have left would surely leave him then. There was no way he could survive that. No way.

He couldn't deny, as those dark thoughts hovered just at the edge of his consciousness, like a vicious predator hiding at the edge of a dark forest, ready to break free and pounce without a second's warning, Castiel's 'offer' was tempting. To remain here. Far away from everything. Away from war. Away from death. Away from demons and angels and everything in between. To hide away in paradise for the rest of his life.

It was tempting. Very tempting. But he knew he couldn't. Even if Castiel was serious in his offer, he just couldn't. He couldn't leave Bobby and Ellen, and Bobby would never agree to leave everything, everyone, behind. Leave what was left of humanity to fend for itself against the demons and Dean's brother. To bury their heads in the sand and pretend it wasn't happening. That just wasn't Bobby, and it hadn't been Dean either. Before. Now? He wasn't sure...

He was scared. Scared shitless at what the future might bring. After all, there was no way they could actually win, right? Dean wasn't even sure he _could_ fight anymore. He couldn't even shoot straight. What if he had to face off against a demon, or more likely, dozens of them, and he just... froze... or something? Maybe it _would_ be better if he just stayed out of it all. But...

But...

Dean forced his mind away from those thoughts. He didn't want to think about it now. That dark place was far away and could not touch him, them, here. Dean didn't want to ruin this moment. It was the least he could do to try to give Castiel his wish. To make their time together here special.

So he didn't protest in the least when Castiel changed their positions, pulling Dean to lay over him. He braced his arms on either side of the angel's head and stared down at Castiel, a small smile pulling at his lips as the angel gazed at him intently. At the angel's question, Dean's smile bloomed wider and he shifted a little. His knees straddling Castiel's hips and sitting back a little. Enough to allow him to run his hands slowly down the length of the angel's chest from his shoulders to his stomach.

_"How about we play it by ear?"_ Dean offered, his hands slipping underneath the hem of the angel's shirt to caress the warm skin underneath. 


End file.
